


The Bride

by Sage8771



Series: The Bride [1]
Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms
Genre: Comfort, Dark Past, F/F, F/M, Fights, Guilt, Internal Conflict, Isolation, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pain, Past Abuse, Redemption, Relationship(s), Religious Conflict, Repressed Memories, Romance, Sex, Slow Burn, Suicide, Triggers, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-12
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2019-01-16 15:05:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 80
Words: 259,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12345069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sage8771/pseuds/Sage8771
Summary: What do you do when the Devil comes knocking at your door? There’s no easy answer for Marie when she’s forced from the only safe place she’s known since the world ended. Will she be damned for eternity, or will he be redeemed?





	1. Payment Must Be Rendered

 

   Shoot.

   Drawing my eyes to the window, I can see that the sun was setting rapidly, and a sense of unease filled my body. I'd been gone since early this morning, much longer than I'd planned. 

   I'd left simply to procure enough supplies to last us another week, and I'd gotten distracted at the sheer volume of books that I'd found in the abandoned house that I'd never entered before, too afraid of the dead one that guarded it from the inside. 

   On this particular day, however, I'd summoned up my courage to open the door, and I was able to lead the woman out, still covered in a tattered housecoat, a single curler still clinging to her sparse, white hair. She'd snapped at my hand, growling and leaking black blood as she stumbled down the steps after me, and I'd sidestepped around her, holding my little knife in my hand, unwilling to actually use it, but prepared in case I had to. 

   I'd only ever killed two of them before, and it had wrecked me so badly that I'd cried over them as if I had known them in another life. Pathetic, I know, but I couldn't help it.

   They'd been people once, probably ones I'd seen here and there in our sleepy little town, though now they only vaguely resembled humans. They were like a child's badly drawn nightmare come to life, and they invaded my dreams at night, taunting me, chasing me into a reality that I wasn't quite ready to accept, even though it was going on two years since everything had changed.

   I thought of home, the little house I'd lived in for the past three years, and the fact that I'd left him alone all day. Sundowner's, I remember my mom calling it when my grandmother would become more confused and agitated just before it got dark. 

   She would wander around the house, looking for her sister, Millie, who'd died more than thirty years before, when my mother was just a child. Sometimes she would confuse me for her, and clutch me to her brittle chest, her gnarled hands gripping my hair and crying. Telling me that she was sorry for not watching that day. For letting me drown. It always terrified me, but my mom told me that it was best to let her go, to let her have her grief since it was all that she had left. 

   Early in the day, she was more lucid, much like he is now, but I know better than to leave for such a long period of time. Guilt and fear push me to my feet as I hastily grab the cans of vegetables and fruits that I found in the cellar along with a few books, stuffing them into my backpack before carefully approaching the door. 

   The old woman is still there, her split lips and cracked teeth rattling against the window as she tries in vain to reach me, an easy meal. 

   The door swings inward, and I grab the handle, hiding behind it as I open it quickly, concealing myself with the wood as she stumbles in. As soon as she's a few feet away, I slither back out, shutting the door firmly, locking her back in her own home.

   "Thanks for the food," I murmur before grabbing my bike and throwing my leg over, shoving off with a grunt. The weight of the backpack makes me wobble back and forth as I pedal with effort, gliding down the hill towards home, following the streaks of pink and orange as they show me the way. 

   We live back on a curved lane, the only home on the road surrounded by fields and large walnut trees that have been a steady source of supplemental food for us, the only two left. I swing my bike to the right, pumping my legs with intermittent huffs of air as I scoot along the gravel, nearly falling over when I see a group of trucks scattered on the grass in front of the house.

   "Oh no," I whisper, with no thoughts of myself or my own safety. I have to get to him. He'll be so scared.

   There are two men stationed in front of the house, and one of them yells something at me, but I don't hear the words and I don't stop until they start to run towards me, each aiming a gun. 

   The bicycle clatters to the ground as I try to free my legs, and I stumble, the backpack sliding down my shoulders.

   "Stop right now," the man orders, the gun making a clicking sound as I freeze, throwing my hands in the air.

   "Where is he?" I gasp, out of breath. "What did you do to him?"

   "I'll ask the questions," he snaps, watching me with wary brown eyes. He's tall and skinny, but there are muscles there, hidden under his brown button-down shirt and dirty blue jeans. His thinning brown hair and mustache make him look dangerous, and I take a tentative step back, stopping only when his thumb makes it's way to the trigger.

   "I'm not going to tell you again," he warns me before a set of hands encircle my arms, pinning them behind my back. 

   It's been two years. Two years I've been able to keep us safe, and it's over now, all because of a few books. I let myself get distracted, and he's going to pay for my mistakes.

   "Please," I beg, my eyes beginning to water. "Please just let me see him. I swear, you can have everything we've got. Just don't hurt him if you haven't already."

   The man behind me pulls the backpack off my shoulder, tossing it to the mustache man before patting me down and taking my little knife and tossing it over as well. 

   "We didn't hurt the crazy old man much, but he did get punched for attacking one of our men," mustache tells me, unzipping my bag and bending over to dump it on the ground. The books flop out first, followed by the cans the roll off in different directions as they hit the uneven patches of dirt underneath the grass. 

   "This is all you got?" he asks suspiciously, stuffing it back in the bag before straightening up. He eyes me up and down before shooting a look to the man holding me, and my arms are suddenly free. Clearly they don't think I'm much of a threat, and they're right. Even if they didn't take my knife, I wouldn't attack them. 

   "I only take what we need," I explain, rubbing my arms as I look towards the back of the house, hearing his voice get loud and then soft again, the pit of fear that's settled in my stomach growing. I'm afraid, but something about seeing these men hasn't quite sunk in yet, and I let out a gasping breath. "Please, can I see him? I'm not going to try anything. He's agitated, and I can calm him down."

   He runs his finger across his whiskers as if he's contemplating just what to do with me, and my heart pounds as a trickle of sweat forms at my temple, sliding down to the edge of my ear, and I bat at it before wiping at my eyes. 

   "Don't try anything stupid," he barks, turning towards the backyard. "There are a helluva lot more of us than there are of you. You'd best remember that, little girl."

   The man behind me shoves me forward, and I have to force my legs to move, feeling like the bones have disintegrated in my body, giving me a jelly-like feeling. 

   We walk in a single-file towards the house, skittering along the edge of the gravel, and as I round the corner to the backyard, I fight the urge to scream as I see him kneeling in the grass, surrounded by a group of men with guns. None of their faces register with me, only the shapes of people as I lurch forward.

   "Father!" I cry, bringing every head in my direction as I run, stumbling on a hole, landing on my knees in front of him.

   His left eye is swollen, and someone's tied his hands together with rope, and he looks at me with a mixture of relief and fear as I begin to cry in earnest, wrapping my arms around his thin shoulders.

   "It's okay, father," I say soothingly. "I'm here. I'm back. You're okay."

   "No, Marie," he rasps, leaning his head back, and his eyes are wild, roaming from person to person situated at my back. "The devil has come, you hear? The devil has come all in black, and he's demanding payment."

   Even to me, he sounds more demented than usual, and I place my hands on the sides of his face, avoiding the swollen areas.

   "Shh, father, these are only men," I plead, trying to calm him down, but he struggles against me, trying to get to his feet, a chorus of deep laughter growing behind me.

   "They've come Marie, the demons have come, and the father of lies himself is here in the flesh. He'll take your soul, child, you must resist the man in black. He'll destroy you," he wheezed, his hands reaching for my face in vain. 

   A laugh, much deeper and louder than the rest rises above the noise, and I watch as his eyes go dull, and he slumps against my chest, defeated. Too afraid to turn around, I stay still, rubbing his back as I hear the sound of footsteps approaching from the back, the clomp of heavy feet on the ground. 

   "I gotta say, sweetheart, your daddy is as crazy as a fucking loon. Entertaining, but crazy as fuck," the voice says, sending a shiver down my spine. 

   I feel something sharp poking the small of my back, stinging as it pierces the skin, and I take a deep breath, too scared to respond. Something about that voice frightens me more than the large amount of intimidating men that surround us on all sides. 

   "Turn around sweetheart so that we can be properly introduced."

   With my eyes on the ground, I shift in my spot, my knees landing on a handful of rocks, and I wince, but nothing else, too unsure of what I'm turning around to find. 

   A pair of worn black boots fill my vision as I slowly lift my eyes. Black pants with a few holes in them, a bat wrapped in barb-wire dangling next to them dangerously, followed by a spiked belt that sits on the edge of his waist. 

   It's late spring, but the man is wearing a black motorcycle jacket, zipped all the way up, a crimson scarf peeking out of the top. I raise my eyes further, my heart leaping to my throat as he and I finally lock eyes. 

  _The devil himself._

   I can see why I found him so upset. This man was as close to Lucifer as a human could get. He had creamy skin, his jaw covered in a haze of dark stubble, surrounding his full lips that curled over the whitest teeth I'd seen in my life. A long, straight nose sat between two brown eyes that could tempt you to walk straight off of a cliff and down into hell, of that I was sure. Thick, black brows framed them perfectly, along with a shock of black hair, carefully smoothed back. All in all, it was overwhelming, and my mouth popped open, though I couldn't form a coherent thought if my life depended on it. 

   He smiled, the brown in his eyes swimming as he bent down, resting his hand on the handle of his bat as he looked me over. 

   "I know," he purred, ducking his head slightly. "It's a lot to take in."

   "Marie, get back."

   The man's eyes looked over my shoulder, and his mouth turned down as he took a deep breath. 

   "What's your daddy's name, sweetheart?"

   I was so thrown off that I couldn't answer, my mouth hanging limply until he brought a leather-clad hand to my chin, squeezing just enough to make my jaw pulsate. "I'm not going to ask you again. I don't like asking things twice."

   "He's not my dad," I stammer, my hand lifting up to remove his until I think better of it and let it drop to the ground. "This is Father Thomas."

   Something told me that this man didn't get surprised very often, but this news must have been unexpected, because his head tipped back, and a roar of laughter ripped through the air. 

   "Well, fuck me raw. Here I thought he was some fucking inbred religious freak, and here he is a motherfucking servant of God."

   He let go of my chin, sending me back a few inches as he got to his feet, producing a switchblade, and he stepped around me, cutting the rope from Father Thomas's wrists in one swipe. 

   "Marie, right?" the man in black verified as I nodded mutely, taking Father Thomas's hands him mine, squeezing them gently. 

   "Where's your husband at?"

   "I'm sorry?" I asked, still looking at Father Thomas, who was shaking like a leaf, trying to pull me. Where he thought we could go, I don't know, but we were completely surrounded, and at the mercy of a group of men who hadn't quite made their intentions clear.

   The bat was thrust between our faces before it jerked down towards my left hand, and I saw that he was pointing to my wedding ring. My hand had some sort of involuntary siezure, my fingers curling around the old man's hands, and I looked up to find the man in black watching me with narrowed eyes.

   "I'm not married to a man," I breathed as he glared at me. "I'm a bride of Christ. I'm a nun."


	2. A Holy Place

 

   The man in black stared down at me for at least a full minute before throwing his head back and laughing, a deep, throaty guffaw that confused me as he slapped his hand against his thigh with a loud smack.

   "Oh, honey, I hate to break it to you, but the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost took the last train for the coast a long, long time ago," he said, reaching down to lift Father Thomas to his feet, holding him in his grip as he thrashed around, trying to reach for me as I sat dumbfounded at his remarks.

   Fleetingly, I wondered if he'd kept quiet so long so that he could think of a witty quip, and I found myself standing as another pair of hands hefted me off the ground.

   "So, Sister Marie," he drawled emphasizing the word sister, "who else is rambling around this little shack?"

   "It's just us," I replied, rubbing the spot on my back where he'd poked me with his bat. "Everyone else is gone."

   The sun was nearly down for the day, leaving us in a twilight haze, casting shadows both across the ground and along the faces of the men who'd closed ranks around us, and I took Father Thomas by the hand as he rambled about Hell on earth and Satan.

   "He fell from Heaven," he mumbled, growing more agitated as the man in black edged him closer to me. "He has great power and intelligence, and a host of demons who assist him in his attacks against God’s people."

   "Does he fucking babble like this all of the time?" the man asked, his face seeming to close in on itself as I looked nervously between him and Father Thomas.

   "He's quoting scripture," I explained as he snorted.

   "I fucking know that, and I'm getting really shittingly annoyed that he keeps referring to me as the devil."

   "I'm sorry," I apologized, stroking Father Thomas's hand, at a loss for what to say. "He's always worse in the evenings."

   The man let out a deep sigh as if we'd ruined his entire day, and I sent a silent prayer for him to just leave us be, but he tilted his head towards the house.

   "How did you two end up here, in this house that sits all by its fucking self?"

   "Are you going to hurt us?" I asked, taking a step back and bumping into someone's hard chest. When I turned my head, I saw that it was the man with the mustache from earlier, and he shoved me back forward.

   "Take it easy, Simon," the man in black warned him. "She's a fucking nun, for Christ's sake."

   He didn't appear to notice or care that I winced at his constant stream of profanity before focusing back on me.

   "I asked you a question," he reminded me and I swallowed the lump in my throat before answering.

   "This is the church rectory," I said as he blinked at me. "For St. Patrick's, just down the road?"

   "All right, take him inside, boys, and don't fucking manhandle him. Get him comfortable and take a look around," the man said, handing Father Thomas off to a man with dirty blonde hair and a large scar on the side of his face.

   He looked at me with curiosity before leading Father Thomas towards the back door, keeping him moving as he called out to me.

   Once he's inside, I turn my attention back to the only man remaining, the man in black, and I find that he's shifted himself so that we're only a half a foot apart. He's probably been staring at me the entire time, and I wonder what he sees. A fool? An easy conquest?

   It makes my skin chill, an automatic response to a stranger and I unconsciously wrap my arms around my chest as his eyebrows rise.

   "Relax, sweetheart," he says, smiling as his eyes drift to my arms. "I don't rape women, and I don't allow any of my men to attack them, either."

   I believe him for some reason, since he could've done pretty much anything he wanted to at any time, but it doesn't change the fear that runs through me when he looks at me.

   "Shit," he growls, making me jump, and he extends his hand towards me in greeting, waiting for me to oblige. I extract one hand from my body and shake it, the cool leather wrapping around my fingers as he pumps my arm up and down. "I should've done this from the start. I'm Negan."

   He must see something on my face because he grins, releasing my hand.

   "I've...never heard that name before," I manage to say as his tongue snakes across his teeth.

   "It's not a common name," he concedes, twirling his bat in a circle before laying it on his shoulder. "But most people around here have heard of me. I run this area."

   "Run it?"

   "Run it, control it, whatever you want to call it," he told me, the bat twitching on its perch. "Any community that lives in my area provides for me. They give us shit, and in return, we don't kill them."

   "I...we don't have anything," I offer, sidestepping several concerning things about what he just said as he chuckles. "All we've got I gave to that Simon guy."

   "Now, I would never call you a liar, honey, but you're going to need to show me around your humble little abode here, and I'll decide for myself if you've got anything I want," he purred, sweeping his arm out to the side to prompt me to take him inside.

   He didn't say anything overtly offensive, but something about his words made my stomach clench in anxiety. What could he possibly want with the rectory? It was filled with books, old furniture, and religious artifacts. Surely nothing in there would interest this strange man that I couldn't quite get a grasp on.

   He was handsome, but dangerous. Strong, but smart and calculating. I had no experience in my simple life with someone like that.

   With uneasy steps, I started up the slope to the back door where one of his men was smoking a cigarette, leaning against the unforgiving brick, watching me with a strange look. He straightened up suddenly, giving Negan a look of fear and respect, and I scuttled around him into the house.

   It was old and in need of repair and housed only a few rooms, and I'd done as much as I could to keep it safe, installing locks on the doors and covering the windows so that no one could see in. We had only a few lanterns, and they'd all been turned on as Negan's men rifled through our things, dropping the unimportant ones onto the floor.

   I almost asked them to show some respect, but I bit back my comments, instead going into the living area to check on Father Thomas, who was rocking back and forth until he saw me.

   "Marie," he said in relief, holding his arms open, and I sat down next to him, giving him a comforting hug.

   "Everything is okay, Father," I said, holding him tightly. "They're not going to hurt us."

   "You're in danger, Marie," he whispered into my ear. "He'll tempt you, and defile you, and you'll be damned for eternity. I don't want you to fall for him. He'll corrupt you. I've seen the way he looks at you. He wants to fuck you," he said, his voice getting louder. "He'll fuck you and use you and make you his bride. The devil has five brides and you'll join them."

   "Father, please," I begged him, unnerved by his use of profanity. This was the worst, most deranged he'd ever been, and when I glanced around, I saw that all of the men had stopped to watch his descent into madness. The face that looked the most disturbed was Negan's, which shocked me.

   "Everyone, get the fuck out of this room," he ordered, and the men scattered, leaving the three of us.

   Father Thomas lurched from my arms, bringing himself to his feet, albeit very unsteadily, and he staggered towards Negan, who held his arms out defensively.

   "I beg you, Lucifer, the fallen son, don't go down this path," the old priest rambled, leaving me sitting there in disbelief. "She is too innocent, too good to be corrupted. She doesn't belong in your world. I know she arouses things in you, but you must resist, to save your soul. You can be redeemed."

   "Father," I said, rising to restrain him, but Negan held up his hand to stop me. Hovering just beyond my concern for Father Thomas's rapidly deteriorating state of mind was a profound embarrassment at his words, insinuating that this stranger had any sort of sexual interest in me, and I knew my cheeks were pink.

   "I'm so sorry," I whispered, but Negan didn't even glance my way, his focus totally on the man in front of him.

   Father's Thomas's gnarled hands reached out, clutching Negan's jacket. "There is still hope for you, fallen star," he wheezed before dropping to the ground.

   I rushed forward with a cry, but Negan scooped him up like he weighed nothing, carrying him back to the couch and laying him down, pressing his fingers to his neck as I dropped to my knees, running my hand gently across his forehead.

   "He's unconscious," Negan muttered as I began to cry again.

   Father Thomas had been my only companion for years, my mentor and friend. My father, in a sense, and now he was lying before me, frail and broken, sent into a tailspin by this unwelcome and upsetting disruption in our lives.

   Stalking off, Negan left us there as he went out to have words with his men. I laid my head down next to the father, just softly telling him that I was all right, and that he would be fine.

   "They're not going to hurt us," I whispered. "They're just going to take some things that they want, and then we'll be alone again."

   "Actually, that's not quite accurate," came another voice, and I turned around hastily to find Simon leaning against the door, wiping off his hands with a towel.

   "What do you mean?" I asked, hunching over Father Thomas protectively.

   "We'll be taking your shit, for sure," he laughed, "but we're also taking you two back with us, and it's not up for negotiation," he added as I opened my mouth to protest.

   "You two aren't safe here," Simon said in a surprisingly gentle voice. "We have a doctor that can treat him, or at least can make sure he can't harm himself or anyone else."

   "I don't...I can't leave," I huffed in anger. "This is our home. This is what he knows."

   "Sorry, Sister, but what Negan says, goes. Whatever personal shit you want to take, you better pack it up real quick. I'll watch the old man, so you might want to hurry. The trucks take off in less than ten."

   He waggled his fingers at me and in a shocked daze, I got to my feet, rushing to my bedroom to fill a bag of clothes and mementos, my books and the first Bible that Father Thomas had given me.

   Next, I went into the priest's room, and I performed the same actions, getting as much of his things as I could, and I dragged them back to the living room to find Father Thomas still out, though a few words would slip from his lips now and again.

   The sounds of furniture being moved echoed through the house as I sat there in frozen fear, twisting the handle of the bag back and forth in my nervous hands. It was now dark, and it felt like a darkness of another kind had settled over me.

   How could I let these strangers take us? But what were my other options? I had no weapons to fight, no training to defend myself, and a frail man that I could barely take care of anymore. We were outmanned and out of options.

   Negan came stalking in, giving the bags I'd packed a passing glance before reaching down and lifting Father Thomas into his arms.

   "Let's go home, boys," he called out, and Simon rushed me to my feet, grabbing the bags as I fluttered nervously until he ordered me to follow him.

   All of our books had been packed up and were being carried out the front door along with a gold crucifix that was being manhandled by a young man with a loud voice, one that was rapidly grating on my nerves.

   The procession continued out the front door, the lamps lighting the way towards the trucks that they'd arrived in, and Simon opened the back door of the largest one, and Negan slid him in with a grunt of effort.

   Before he could say anything to me, I scrambled in back, lifting his head to rest it on my lap, placing my arm protectively around him. I turned my face to the door to find Negan watching me, but I didn't know what the look on his face meant.

   Eventually, he shut the door in my face and opened up the driver's one, climbing behind the wheel. He set his bat on the seat as Simon climbed in, and he started the truck, gunning the engine as we swerved mightily before landing on the gravel, which kicked up behind the tires as he sped down the land.

   "Where are you taking us?" I asked, my voice hesitant.

   "Oh, you are going to love this," Simon laughed as he turned around in his seat. "We're taking you to the Sanctuary. Sound religious enough for you?"

   I had no reply.


	3. Discernment

  
   I'd gone over my carefully planned speech at least a dozen times in my head as we drove to Negan's camp, trying to figure out how I was going to get this man to let Father Thomas and I go.

   After getting over the shock of the 'introduction' to him and his men, the reality of the situation I found myself in had caused me to shake uncontrollably for the last several hours, though Negan and Simon hadn't said so much as two words during the trip.

   How could I have let us be taken by strangers? I was mentally beating myself up as I sat with Father Thomas's head on my lap, feeling like I'd failed him spectacularly.

   When everything in the world had gone wrong, it was only me, him, and two older nuns who'd shepherded me through my postulancy and my studies. Sister Ann had been my champion, a plump, feisty woman who encouraged me, praised me, and taught me what it meant to be humble and grateful in the simplicities of a life without material aspirations.

   Sister Helen, on the other hand, was the stern, godly nun that every child fears, and her thin, brittle face and cold eyes spurred me to learn as much as I could, the threat of failure always looming over me when she'd watch me.

   And then there was Father Thomas, a man so devout, so kind, that no man or woman could ever find fault with him. He would spend hours with me, teaching me, helping me to understand what it meant to devote my life to something other than myself.

   The decision hadn't come easily to me after a life spent in relative happiness, save the normal trials and tribulations of youth. But the desire to do more with my life and serve others had always been there, simmering under the surface of my hopes and dreams, and when I'd made the decision to move forward, my mother had been unsupportive, to say the least.

   I'd grown up in an agnostic household, so for her, it seemed to come out of nowhere, but when I'd finally decided on the course of my life, I'd never felt more at peace.

   I'd only taken my final vows a few weeks before the first reports of cannibalism came over the news, sending our little town into a panic. Men and women who'd never shown up to church suddenly flocked to the little building, searching for comfort and answers, I guess.

   It wasn't until the police ordered everyone to evacuate that Father Thomas offered to let me leave, but I'd refused. How could I leave them to fend for themselves? My mother had tried to forcibly take me with her, pulling me towards her car that was already filled with friends and neighbors, but I'd stubbornly fought to keep my word to the people I'd claimed as my family.

   We were ensconced in the rectory for roughly two months when I'd had to kill my first undead. Sister Ann had passed away in the middle of the night, and I woke to a high-pitched scream, throwing the covers off of me as I ran into the living room to find her clawing at Sister Helen, no longer the sweet, gentle woman I'd grown to love.

   Instead, she was now a mindless...thing, hell-bent on taking the other woman with her. I don't remember grabbing a knife, but I do recall my hand being covered in blood as it shook, Sister Helen's hoarse cries as she bent over Sister Ann's broken body.

   Father Thomas had led me away, washing the blood from my skin before blessing her body, helping me the best he could when I dragged her into the yard and buried her, placing her favorite rosary on the grave.

   Sister Helen had never been the same after, barely eating and taking to her room for days at a time, doing nothing but praying for an end to it all. Whether she meant everything, the entire human existence or something else, I'll never know, but she hung herself the following spring on the branch above Sister Ann's grave.

   That was my second and only other kill, and it still haunted me to this day, their faces always present in my mind, even as we drove through the night to a destination that I wasn't quite sure even existed.

   As I looked out the window, I could see nothing, the entire area pitched in darkness, and the only thing visible was the road that was immediately in front of us, illuminated by the headlights of the truck.

   When I felt Father Thomas's chest, the steady rise and fall let me know that he was still alive, still breathing, and I hoped that he would wake up, but not before I knew for sure that he was safe.

   "It won't be much longer," Simon said as he turned back to look at me, probably trying to figure out if I was holding up, and I nodded my head, not trusting my own voice.

   I glanced quickly at the rearview mirror, and I saw those brown eyes looking back at me, prompting me to put my head down as the ache in my chest returned.

   Simon was apparently a man of his word, at least in terms of distance, because ten minutes later, the truck began to slow down, making a right hand turn onto a drive.

   Up ahead, I could see hazy lights, beckoning us to drive on, and my heart began to flutter, my breaths coming faster as I absently rubbed at the old priest's head to steady myself.

   When we got closer to the source of the light, I let out a gasp, unable to contain myself. Negan was driving us to a large factory, but that wasn't what was drawing my attention.

   No, it was the large fence that bordered the property, surrounded by what used to be people, all impaled on poles or strung up on chains, and my eyes filled with tears, both in horror and sadness at the waste of lives, postured for amusement or boredom.

   I could feel Negan watching me through the mirror, but I couldn't look him in the eye, too affected by what I was seeing, and hoping that Father Thomas would never lay eyes on it. He muttered something under his breath that I couldn't hear, driving the truck through a gate that opened, allowing us access to his home.

   He brought the truck to a quick stop, sending the upper half of my body forward, and I hung on to Father Thomas, careful to make sure he didn't roll off of the seat.

   Negan got out first, followed by Simon who opened the passenger door on his side to get Father Thomas after calling for assistance. Two other men came running over, and I sat like a statue in my spot as they slowly pulled him by the legs towards the open air until my door opened suddenly, scaring me.

   A leather-clad hand was palm up by my shoulder, but I swung my legs out, stumbling down to the asphalt, catching myself at the last minute, not wanting to touch him. When I looked up into his eyes, he seemed angry, and he took ahold of my arm, ushering me towards the large building.

   There were only a handful of men in the area, and all of them were armed with guns. Negan barked out orders to them to unload the trucks, hurrying me along behind Simon and the others who were carrying Father Thomas.

   "Keep your mouth shut and your head down until I say so," he told me, staring straight ahead as I took two steps for every one of his.

   The words I'd been so anxious to speak to him died in my throat as we walked through the doors into a large open area with dozens of tables set up, each holding a voluminous amount of supplies. We moved to swiftly for me to get a good look, but I could see baked goods, books, toiletries and other assorted items.

   At the far end of the cavernous area were two long hallways, and Simon carried Father Thomas down the right one, the dimly lit grey walls stretching out for at least a hundred feet. The very last room on the left had a handmade sign that said 'Infirmary' on it, and the door opened before Simon reached it, allowing him to get my only friend inside.

   Negan dragged me in as well, shoving me onto a bed by the wall before he walked over to a balding man in a white lab coat who was holding Father Thomas's feeble arm in his fingers, listening to his pulse.

   "He has dementia, and he passed out during a fit or something," Negan told him, and the man nodded, putting his stethoscope in his hears, placing it to the priest's chest.

   Then, he pinched at his skin before writing something down on a piece of paper.

   "He's dehydrated," the bald man told Negan as I sat on the bed, my hands clenched into fists, the guilt overwhelming me. It was my fault. I'd left him alone too long, and he'd probably forgotten to drink anything.

   My throat began to close on its own, hurting from the efforts to keep the tears from falling down my face, but it was no use. Like a rain shower in spring, they burst out of my eyes without warning, and I dropped my head into my hands.

   I felt soft, cool hands on my forearm and I looked up to see the bald man standing over me.

   "He's going to be okay, miss," he told me in a kind voice, patting my shoulder for emphasis. "I'm going to start and iv, and he'll probably sleep through the night."

   "Thank you, sir," I managed to whisper as he went to a large metal cabinet, unlocking it and filling his arms with a set of supplies. The relief I'd hoped to feel didn't come, only the shame of not taking better care of Father Thomas kept me company as I sat there, watching the bald man bustle around, attaching an iv to his arm and covering him with a thin blanket.

   "You can stay here for the night," Simon told me, getting in my line of sight as I blinked the blurriness of my vision away. "I'll be back to get you in the morning, and you're going to need to meet with Negan."

   I didn't quite comprehend, staring at him with a blank expression until I realized that Negan wasn't in the room anymore. It was just the doctor, the priest, the nun, and Simon.

   "You understand?" he asked, his voice getting sharper, and I nodded once. Without saying anything else, he turned and left, the door closing softly behind him.

   The bald man introduced himself as Dr. Carson, and his mouth dropped open when I told him my name, though to be fair, he recovered himself pretty quickly.

   "You don't appear to have any injuries, so I'll just let you rest for tonight, and in the morning, we'll get you cleaned up and checked out. Does that sound fair?"

   I liked Dr. Carson the best out of any of the men I'd met so far today. He was the kindest one, his blue eyes looking at me sympathetically.

   "I can't imagine what you've been through today, young lady, but I do have a bit of advice for you," he said, handing me a blanket. "Negan is not a man to be disrespected or challenged. I don't imagine you've met anyone like him since everything's happened, and I hope that you tread carefully. You could be safe here, but everything has its price. _Everything_."

   Before I could respond, he shuffled off towards his office, leaving me sitting there with an open mouth and a brain in turmoil. I no longer trusted what I saw or what I heard, having been sheltered for so long, but I made a promise to myself that I would get my speech out in the morning in the least disrespectful way as possible. Dr. Carson was trying to convey something to me, something important, and Father Thomas's rantings came flooding back to me.

   The sound of Father Thomas's breathing was accompanied by a low hum that emanated from the walls, and I shook out the sheets, turning to my side to keep watch on him for as long as I could keep my eyes awake. The bed was uncomfortable and unfamiliar to me, and I counted Father's breaths as I waited for my body to succumb to sleep. The last number I remember was one-hundred twelve before my eyes finally shut.

   I heard my name being called, but the voice was soft, almost pleading and I forced my eyes to open, at a loss as to where I was at first. It was only when I saw Father Thomas reaching out weakly that I remembered where I was and what had happened the day before.

   My side was burning from the flat mattress that offered no support, and I swung my legs over, feeling jangly as I reached out to comfort him. He was hoarse and confused, struggling to sit up as I bent down to his face.

   "Where are we?" he asked as I placed my hand gently on his shoulder. "Is this a hospital?"

   "No, father," I told him, biting back a yawn. "We were found by some people yesterday, and they brought us to their building to help us. I'm so sorry I left you alone for so long."

   "I don't remember," he insisted, still trying to sit up as the office door opened and the doctor came over to check on him.

   "Father Thomas, my name is Doctor Carson," he said in a soothing voice. "I know this must be confusing for you, but you and Marie are safe. We're going to help you."

   Something in the doctor's calm tone let him relax, and his head dropped limply onto the pillow as I combed my fingers through his hair, trying vainly to smile.

   "What about Ann?" he asked, and Dr. Carson gave me a look of confusion.

   "It's just you and I now, Father. Sister Ann and Sister Helen are gone."

   "Oh. Oh, that's too bad," he murmured as he closed his eyes. I waited for him to rouse himself, but after a few minutes, he started to snore. When I looked to Dr. Carson for confirmation that he was all right, he gave me a reassuring smile.

   "I took the liberty of getting you some clean clothes and some personal items so that you can get freshened up. Here," he said, handing me a bag that had been sitting on the floor. "I'll show you where you can go."

   He noticed my hesitation, and his eyes softened.

   "I'll stay with him," he confirmed, taking a step towards the door. "It's best not to keep Negan waiting."

   All I could manage was a soft sigh, and I followed him out the door and down the hall to another grey door. He unlocked it and pushed it open, revealing a yellow-tiled bathroom, complete with a sad-looking shower, a white porcelain toilet and a sink with a cracked mirror hanging above it.

   "Thank you for everything," I told him before he shut the door, and I pressed the lock on the handle, setting the bag on the sink.

   Turning on the shower, I quickly stripped off the clothes I was wearing and pulled out the shampoo and soap along with a towel and washcloth that he'd thoughtfully put in the bag, ducking under the icy spray to clean myself as swiftly as possible.

   It felt good to take a real shower since the only water we had came from a well that sat on the edge of the rectory property. We'd only been able to give ourselves sponge baths for a long time, and it felt amazing to be under running water again, even though the lack of warmth sent a chill through my body.

   The toothbrush he'd given me had rough bristles, but I cleaned my mouth and stuffed it back into the bag before combing my hair as I looked at my reflection.

   All I saw staring back at me was the same, average woman I'd always seen. Average height, slightly underweight from not eating much, and average reddish-brown hair that hung past my shoulders. A smattering of freckles that always seemed to get more prominent when I'd spend more time in the sun, and green eyes that were unremarkable, at least to me.

   My lips weren't full and they weren't thin, they were just there. Vessels to speak or to pray. Adequate for eating.

   I'd dated some in high school, but there were always girls that were prettier, more outgoing, always seeming to have a little more zest than me. I always blended into the background, the one that would help clean up after rallies, or take the tickets at the football games. Was it any wonder I'd slid into serving a greater good? I didn't know.

   The clothes that Dr. Carson had procured for me were simple, at least. Just a pair of blue jeans and a green t-shirt, though they were a little more form-fitting than I was used to.

   Before I headed back out, I gave myself one last look, trying to impart a feeling of confidence that I desperately needed if I was to talk my way out of this place, and with a deep breath, I stepped out into the hall, where Simon was leaning against the wall, chewing on a toothpick.

   "Mornin' sunshine," he drawled, giving me a hearty smile, though his eyes still remained sharp. "How's the old man doing?"

   It irked me that he couldn't show Father Thomas the proper respect, and my words had a little more bite than they probably should, but hey, I needed to project some security.

   " _Father Thomas_ ," I emphasized with a smile, "is resting, thank you."

   He snorted before pushing himself away from the wall and taking me by the arm.

   "Let's go," he said, moving me brusquely down the hall. "He's waiting for you."

   The urge to fling myself away from him and take off running bloomed inside me, but I let him pull me towards a stairwell, climbing up them to face a man I had no idea how to interact with.


	4. The Inquisition, Part 1

   My legs were burning as we reached the top floor after climbing a seemingly endless set of stairs, passing only two people along the way, both men who looked as if they'd seen better days, covered in dirt and carrying yet more guns. I'd never seen so many armed people in my life, save for the occasional hunter than frequented the woods behind my house where I'd grown up. 

   Simon opened the heavy door, and I was thrust into a heavily decorated hallway, with expensive looking paintings and brocade rugs laid nearly end to end. There were even potted plants, lush green palms situated along the entryway, a bright, colorful world compared to the dull, lackluster hallways I'd seen. 

   He led me down the long hallway past several closed doors to a set of creamy, pale wood ones, so shiny that I could see our approach, two blurry shapes getting closer to the room that must have been Negan's. 

   Simon knocked once, and a loud voice told him to enter. 

   Trying to control the tempo of my breathing, I went over my speech one final time before taking my first steps into a room that left me in sensory overload. 

   My home growing up had been simple, filled with hand me downs and comfortable, yet functional furniture. This room, his room, was as highly decorated as the halls, and I didn't know where to look first. 

   Large, solid wood bookshelves were placed along the right wall, overflowing with reading materials. Scattered between were small statues and busts, along with some very pretty crystal. A matching bar sat next to it, the most expensive liquors lined up in pristine order. 

   A rich, black leather couch dominated the spot just in front of where I stood, sitting on top of an Oriental rug in deep red tones. The air smelled of sandalwood and something else, maybe a musky cologne. 

   The man in charge was sitting to the left at an oversized desk, watching me as I turned to face him, his eyes appraising me, though his face was blank and I clasped my hands in front of me, waiting for him to tell me what he wanted me to do. 

   "Sit down," he told me, pointing to the chair that sat in front of him, and I eased myself down as Simon slipped out, the door shutting with a final sound. 

   Negan wasn't wearing his coat, instead clad in a plain white t-shirt, his arms bulging out from the sleeves. His hair was as orderly as it had been the night before, though he was clean-shaven this morning. All in all, he was thoroughly intimidating and I shifted my eyes to the papers on his desk. Something about looking at him directly was like looking at the sun, bound to damage and harm me.

   "How's the priest doing?" he asked, and I lifted my eyes briefly. 

   "He woke up for a minute, but he's still confused. May I say something?" I asked in a shaking voice as his eyebrows rose and he nodded his head. 

   "I wanted to thank you," I said, twisting my hands in my lap, feeling my palms begin to dampen. "It was very kind of you to let your doctor care for us, and I know that it used up some of your resources, so I'm grateful. Father Thomas is the most important person in the world to me, so the fact that you mostly treated him with kindness is not lost on me. But, I'd like to ask if you'd let us go."

   I could see his eyes flash, and I rushed through the rest of my words, wanting to get them out as quickly as possible. "We've been alone since the start, away from everything, and I know he's coming to the end of his life. I'd like to take him home so that he can spend his last few days in the place he feels most comfortable so that I can ease his transition. I know that you said everyone in your area gives you their things, and I'm perfectly willing to give you anything that you didn't take from the house but still want, and if I can scrounge up anything else, I'll gladly hand it over."

   Negan didn't say anything, he just stared at me with those eyes, and I found myself wanting to run again, away from his penetrating gaze that seemed to be piercing through my chest, my face. 

   "No."

   It was all he said, and I blinked, flinching back.

   "May I ask why? Are you keeping me as a prisoner?" I stuttered, my heart sinking down to my toes. I didn't want to be here, in this room or in this factory.

   "You may just be the most naive fucking human being I've ever had the misfortune to come across," he told me, and I couldn't tell if it was an insult or a compliment. "Do you have any idea what's been going on for the past two years?"

   "Yes," I said with a catch in my throat. "I just choose not to be a part of it. We keep to ourselves, we don't take anything that we don't need, and we've been blessed enough to survive."

   "Blessed, honey? You are far from blessed," he laughed, rising and stalking past me towards the bar. I kept staring straight ahead even though I could hear the clinking of glass and the snap of a bottle being opened. The liquid hit the glass with a trickle and I heard him hum with satisfaction. 

   He reappeared in front of me, sipping on a dark amber liquid, maybe whiskey, licking his lips as he set the tumbler down. I don't know if he meant it to be sexual or sensual, but it was off-putting, and I crossed my legs, trying to think of anything that would convince him to let me go. 

   "How many people have you killed, Marie?" 

   "None," I told him, my eyes widening. "I haven't killed anyone."

   "Uh huh, and how many walkers have you taken out?"

   "Two."

   "Two? You've killed two since your God let the world fall apart," he sneered, leaning back in his chair as it let out a squeak. "I'm surprised you've even done that."

   "I didn't have a choice," I replied, my face feeling like it was on fire. "Sister Ann and Sister Helen had passed away, and I couldn't leave them like that. I didn't want to do it."

   "Why not?"

   "Because they're people. People that I cared about," I said in disbelief. Why would I want to kill anyone?

   "Marie, are you stupid? Fucking slow or touched in the head? Because that's the only thing I can think of that would make you this fucking ridiculous," he said, his eyes turning cold. "How the fuck have you made it this long still following the Ten Commandments?"

   I didn't know what to say, the anger in my blood starting to bubble up. Who was this man, and how did the have the right to judge me without even knowing me?

   "Anyfucking way, how is it that no one else has found you during all this time?" Negan questioned, lifting the glass to his lips.

   "People have come," I said stiffly, "but we have a room in the basement of the rectory. Almost like a safe room, I guess, and we'd hide in it. But there haven't been many. Not a lot of people want to hang out in a rectory that sits by itself, I assume. We've been lucky."

   "Well, you're not a prisoner, exactly. Think of yourself as my guest for the time being, until I can figure out what the fuck to do with you."

   The doorknob rattled, and a woman walked in, swaying from side to side on heels so high, I didn't know how she wasn't snapping her ankles in half.

   "Baby, you were supposed to spend the night with me," she whined before noticing that Negan wasn't alone, and her eyes narrowed suspiciously, like I wasn't supposed to be here. She was dressed in a silky negligee, with big, teased out hair and smudged makeup, her pouty lips turned down as she shot me a look.

   "What the fuck have I told you about walking into my room without knocking?" Negan barked, getting to his feet as the woman sauntered over to him, resting a perfectly manicured hand possessively on his chest. 

   "I'm sorry, baby," she purred and I couldn't tell if she was being sarcastic or not. "I didn't realize you were auditioning for another wife."

   Another wife?

   "Get the fuck back to your own room and get yourself cleaned up. Now. Or I may be looking for two wives," he growled, taking her by the arm and steering her back towards the door. As she plodded along, she gave me a sinister smile, sending a series of goosebumps along my skin. 

    _Lord, show me the way_ , I thought to myself, rising to my feet and starting towards the exit.

   "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Negan asked as I went to step around him. 

   "Please just let me go," I pleaded, reaching for the door when he slapped my hand away gently. "Please."

   "Sit down."

   "Please," I repeated, but he towered over me, his face becoming mottled.

   "I don't like saying things twice, sweetheart. I think I've told you that already."

   Everything about this man and the situation I found myself in rubbed me the wrong way, and I lost my temper, just a little bit.

   "It's Marie, or Sister. I don't appreciate being called honey or sweetheart by a man that I don't know."

   I half expected him to yell at me, but he laughed, taking a step forward as I took one back. "Oh, so there is a backbone buried in there somewhere. And here, I thought you were filled with vanilla yogurt. Sit down. Please. _Sister_."

   He kept advancing towards me until my feet hit the chair and I sat down, my backside bouncing on the springy material. Negan picked up his glass, draining in one swallow before positioning himself at the corner of his desk.

   "Hey, how come you don't wear that scarf thingy?" he questioned, cocking his head to the side. 

   "A habit?" I asked for clarification and he nodded. "We don't have to wear those anymore."

   "Just the ring to let everyone know you're off the market, eh?"

   I didn't answer, my pinky finger rubbing against it automatically, something I'd done ever since it had been placed on my finger. 

   He leaned down, and I could smell the fumes from the whiskey on his breath along with either cologne or body wash, and I retreated as he grinned. "Do I make you nervous?"

   "Yes."

   "And why is that?" he asked. 

   "I don't know you. I don't know anything about you, and for all I know, you're going to kill me and Father Thomas and string us up around your home."

   He seemed amused as he righted himself. 

   "I knew that upset you," he said crossing his arms, his muscles twitching slightly. "But they're necessary. They keep other walkers away and anyone else that tries to get in."

   "They were someone's husband. Their sons, their daughters."

   "Yeah, well now they're lawn ornaments, Marie."

   I wanted to tell him he was wrong, to ask him how he became so cold and unfeeling, so unconcerned with the sanctity of life, but a radio sparked to life, and a man called for him over the radio.

   "What?" he barked into it, keeping his eyes on me as I gripped the arms of the chair.

   "Sorry, boss, but the doc's asking for the girl. The priest isn't doing so hot," the voice said, and it was like someone switched something off in him. He became businesslike as he took me by the arm, rushing me towards the door as I began to get a sick feeling in my stomach. 

   Negan had the top of my arm in a vice grip, the sleeve of my shirt wrinkling in his hand as he took me back to the stairwell, passing two different women in the hall without so much as a hello to the well-dressed specimens, both of whom were not bothering to hide their confusion. 

   We made it down the steps in under a minute, my breath sawing in and out of my lungs while Negan hardly even seemed bothered, yanking me down the hall to the Infirmary. When we got inside, Simon was standing with Dr. Carson, who had removed Father Thomas's iv and was listening to his heart. 

   Father Thomas was flushed, and he was taking rattled breaths, thrashing around vainly. My vision tunneled, seeing only the man on the bed, and I ripped my arm free to rush to his side. 

   "Marie," he moaned, his eyes looking around but probably not seeing anything as I placed my hand on his cheek trying to calm him. 

   "I'm here, Father," I told him in the loudest voice I could manage. "You aren't alone. I'm here. I won't leave you."

   He continued to call my name, trying to get up from the bed before collapsing back into a brief respite, my hand never leaving his face. I wasn't ready for this. I know it was my duty to be there for him, but I didn't want to watch this. I couldn't end up alone. 

   "Sister," Dr. Carson said, trying to get my attention.

   "What happened?" I gasped, feeling a breakdown coming on. "You said he was going to be all right."

   "He's actively dying," the doctor said with regret, patting me on the shoulder. "It's only a matter of time, now."

   I sucked in a breath, my throat trying to constrict as I began to feel tears falling down my cheeks, and I whimpered in pain. 

   "The kindest way to put it is that it's like a watch battery slowly losing its juice," he told me. "His breaths will begin to slow, and he'll probably have a brief period of lucidity. But it won't be long."

   Dr. Carson took a nervous step back, but my focus was on the bed, the kind face that had been a constant in my life for the last several years until I felt a warm hand on my shoulder. I turned unsteadily to see that it was Negan, and his eyes were soft. 

   "I'm sorry, Marie," he murmured, and he sounded sincere.

   "Please," I said, my breath becoming uneven, on the verge of hyperventilation, and I clutched at his shirt, looking up into his face. "Please let me take him home. Please, Negan, I need to take him home, he belongs there. He shouldn't die here, please."

   I knew I was babbling, but I couldn't seem to stop myself. "He should be in his own bed. Please."

   Very slowly, he brought his thumb to my cheek, wiping away the tears that wouldn't stop falling before detaching himself from my grip. 

   "Pull the truck around," he told Simon as I let my head drop. "Doc, help us wheel the bed out front."

   He pushed me back a foot or two before lowering the head of the bed, and Father Thomas let out a soft sigh, causing me to reach out for his hand. With Dr. Carson's guiding him, he started out the door with the bed, me trailing behind as the doctor tried to coach me on what to expect. 

   "Don't give him any liquids or food," he warned me, placing a bottle of liquid medicine into my hand. "It's morphine, and it will keep the pain to a tolerable level. A few drops on his tongue, and you can wet his lips and mouth to keep him comfortable."

   I gave him a hug before racing to catch up with Father Thomas who was being wheeled through the large front area that we first arrived in. Unlike the previous night, it was now filled with people, all of whom were kneeling as Negan passed by, and all of them watching the procession like it was a tv show. No one looked sad, only beaten down and curious. 

   A large truck was idling right by the doors, and Simon opened the back seat door, climbing in as Negan positioned the head of the bed as close to the opening as he could. He and Simon undid the sheets, lifting Father Thomas gingerly as they slid him into the back seat. 

   When I tried to climb in back with him, Negan clamped his hand around my arm, stopping me. 

   "Simon's riding in the back in case he doesn't make it."

   "I'll-"

   "You'll ride in the front or you won't be going." It was final as he turned away and headed towards the other side of the truck. 

   Simon got in, lifting Father Thomas's head and setting it on his lap, and I have to say, he was very gentle and respectful, even giving me a tentative smile, which spurred me to get in, and I turned myself to the side to keep watch over him, hopeful that he could make it home.

   The truck took off with a jerk, and we sped away from the factory, passing the walkers that surrounded the fence, and I felt a sense of peace settling over me as every rotation of the tires brought me closer to home.


	5. Last Rites

   Did you ever have one of those episodes where you're aware of what's going on around you, but your brain seems to misfire, sort of an earworm of images that flash through your mind? An endless loop of the same pictures and memories, flowing in a rapidly increasing wheel, over and over?

   That's what was happening to me as we drove back to the rectory. I could feel every time the truck hit a bump. I had an itch on my ankle that needed scratched, and I could see the broken body of my dearest companion stretched out on the backseat as I sat on my knees facing him, but what I really saw were the same four or five images, again and again.

   Father Thomas smiling brilliantly at me when I'd taken my vows. His face when he realized that I wasn't going to leave him or the other sisters, filled with sadness and gratitude. The sheer joy that emanated from him on a Sunday when the service had been filled to the rafters with parishioners, all of whom were listened reverently to his sermon. His eye blackened from taking a hit from Negan's men as he knelt with his hands tied in front of him, watching me with a terror that I couldn't understand. 

   He let out a moan, and I passed the medicine back to Simon, who placed a couple of drops into his open mouth while trying to make sure that he didn't roll off the seat. I didn't know how much longer it would be, but I rested my chin on my folded arms, aware of the ache in my back from leaning over the back of the seat. 

   No one other than the Father had said a word since we set off, and I'd let the tears flow unfettered, not bothering to wipe them away since they'd be replaced soon by more. I knew he was older, I knew he was getting worse as time went on the past few years, but even though I was faced with his demise, I couldn't quite wrap my head around the fact that the only person that had been there for me was fading away, setting off on a journey that I couldn't follow unless I'd committed the ultimate sin like Sister Helen, damning me to Hell. 

   He was moving on to a better place, and I was going to be here alone. If not physically alone, then with people I didn't know who'd done things I couldn't understand. Even though Negan had been kind enough to take us back, I knew deep down that he wasn't going to let me stay there. 

   "How old is he?" Simon asked, interrupting the fractured images that rotated through my mind, and I gazed through them to his face.

   "Eighty-two," I managed to croak out. 

   He shifted awkwardly before shrugging. "Well, at least he lived a long life. That's more than most people get anymore."

   I couldn't respond, torn between two different emotions. He was right, obviously. Father Thomas had lived a long life. A good life. But another part of me was angry, that he'd dismiss the passing of a beautiful soul, just because he was older. That it made it okay, even though I was losing a part of me. Who was I if I didn't have him to guide me? I didn't have a church, I didn't have a priest to serve, so was I really a bride of Christ anymore?

   Time passed. The truck continued to roll forward, and Father Thomas kept breathing, until Negan turned down the driveway to the rectory, sending my body slamming into his. He struck his arm out to steady me, and I found myself just inches from his face. 

   "I'm sorry," I murmured before he let me go, turning his eyes back to the road, and I seated myself properly in the seat, taking a deep breath. As soon as he positioned the vehicle by the front steps, I scrambled out, taking them two at a time as I opened the door, clearing the way for them to carry him inside. 

   While they got him into his bed, I went around and pulled the blinds, letting some light into the rooms, and I remembered that I had some water hidden in the kitchen. Ducking down, I fished around behind the pots and pans, producing a few bottles of water along with a large jar of walnuts, emergency food in case I couldn't find anything else, and I carried them into Father Thomas's room, setting all but one bottle on the dresser.

   There was a towel laying on the nightstand, and I dampened it, wiping at Father Thomas's mouth, wetting it before I brought it to his lips, moistening them as he eyelids fluttered. He clutched at my arm, and I settled on the bed next to him. 

   "Marie," he mumbled, seeing me but not really able to focus, though he sounded alert. 

   "I'm right here."

   "Is he here, too?"

   "Who, Father?" I asked, unsure if he was referring to someone in his past or not. He'd been the only man in our church, surrounded by women.

   "The fallen son," he said, and I heard a disgusted sigh as Negan appeared in the doorway, dragging a chair with him, sitting down next to the head of the bed. I prayed to myself that he wouldn't do anything to upset the dying man, but he merely took Father Thomas's hand in his own, putting a solemn look on his face. 

   "I'm here, old man. Lucifer in the flesh."

   Father looked so forlorn, so absolutely sad that I began to cry even though Negan shot me a look. 

   "It's not too late, son," he croaked, letting out a wet cough as Negan jerked back. "I can no longer protect her. I'm...leaving her with you. A gift...a chance for your redemption. She's a shining light that can lead you back to the path of rightousness," he rambled, pulling at Negan's arm. "Don't waste this."

   With a soft groan, he turned to address me, and I shifted myself so that I was laying on his side, close to his face so that he didn't have to strain himself, my chin trembling, out of my control. 

   "Marie, my darling girl." 

   His voice was barely more than a wheeze, and Negan extracted his hand from Father Thomas's grip, stalking over to the window as I whimpered. 

   Shaky fingers plucked at my ring, attempting to pull it off of my hand and I tried to curl my fingers down over it, but he got upset, yanking harder.

   "You can't...hide behind this ring anymore, Marie. God will find you again when he's ready, and he will bring you home."

   "Father, you can't do this," I sobbed, letting him slip the gold band off of my ring finger, and he closed his fist around it. "You're taking away who I am." 

   "I'm gone, the church is gone, child, but you'll know what to do," he moaned, his eyes shutting. "I pardon you from your vows. I now pardon you from your vows."

   He went unconscious as the last words fell from his dry lips, and I wrapped my arm around his neck, my heart broken into pieces that I don't think could ever be put back together. 

   I don't know when, or why, but I must have fallen asleep because the next thing I remember is jerking awake as Father Thomas began to moan. 

   "Mama?" he cried as I sat up, looking around. "Mama?"

   His eyes were open, but he had a faraway look, his head turned towards the door. It made the hair on the back of my neck stand up as a dreamy smile crossed his face.

   "Mama," he said with an exhale, and I waited for something more, but it never came. Only a final rattling breath, and then the most beautiful, amazing thing happened. 

   His skin, which had been splotchy and grey, went completely clear, a creamy pale color. The lines in his face softened, and I caught a glimpse of the man he once was. The smiling, dark-haired gentlemen in the black and white picture that sat on his desk showing him when he was younger. The gentle soul who'd dedicated the best years of his life to making the world a more beautiful place. 

   With my last bit of sanity, I tried to impart a blessing over him, even though it wasn't my place to do so as I softly closed his eyelids. 

   Making the sign of the cross on his forehead, I kissed him gently as I whispered to him.

   "Lord Jesus Christ, I ask that you receive your child into your arms, that he might pass in safety to you."

   I knew they weren't the exact words, but they were from my heart, my final show of love and affection for him, and I dropped my head onto his chest, wracked with sobs until I heard the sound of glass shattering, and I nearly fell off of the bed.

   Negan was holding his hand, and it was covered in blood just next to the bedroom window, a huge hole now in the glass. 

   "Go get a knife," he said without looking at me as I trembled next to Father's still warm body. "Now," he roared, sending me stumbling from the mattress, wiping my eyes with shaking hands. 

   When I reached the kitchen, Simon was leaning against the sink, and he passed me a butcher's knife while he kept his head down, and I returned to the bedroom. Negan whipped it out of my hand, leaving his fresh blood on my skin as he walked over to Father Thomas, and with a quick movement, he stuck the knife in his temple, retracting it and dropping it on the ground as I fell to my knees. 

   He stood there for a while as I wrapped my arms around my knees, trying to keep my cries silent, my heart aching in my chest. 

   "Where do you want him buried?"

   "I...in the backyard," I managed to say, and he stomped past me, the sounds of his steps echoing through the silent, lonely house. Father Thomas was no one to him, he meant nothing to Negan, and it flummoxed me as to why he'd gotten so upset that he punched through the window, injuring himself. This man had probably seen death a hundred times over, so why was this one so emotional for him?

   I got back to my feet, walking into the kitchen in a daze, and Negan and Simon were speaking in low voices, the sound cutting off when I arrived, but I walked past them to the back door, stepping out into the cool air. It was close to evening, the sun setting much as it had just one day earlier when they'd crashed into my carefully hidden world, and I took plodding steps towards the shed, twisting the door open with a grunt.

   There were a handful of shovels of various sizes tilted up against the wooden walls, and I reached for the one I'd used twice before, stepping back and running into Simon, who stepped around me to get one of his own. 

   He followed me to a spot just under the tree that watched over Sisters Ann and Helen, and after I dug up the first plod of grass, he joined me, moving at a much faster pace.

   Negan was the last one to come out, his hand wrapped in a white towel, but he grabbed another shovel, and he took the spot next to Simon, picking up dirt like his life depended on it. It took a while, yet it didn't take long enough, and when the hole was deep enough, I dropped the shovel to the ground, walking back towards the house in the purple light. 

   It was a good time to say goodbye, I realized as I stood over his body. The end of a day, the way the sun had set on his life, and it gave me a tiny bit of warmth to know that he'd passed peacefully, not torn to shreds by another human, or one that used to be so. 

   I wrapped the covers around him, tucking them in after sliding my ring on his pinky finger, and Negan got on one side, Simon on the other, maneuvering him out the door as I followed with two items in my hand and a heavy soul. 

   They laid him in the grave facing the house, and I got down into the dirt, placing his rosary on his chest and the only picture I knew of him to exist by his head. The smiling man was gone, leaving only a shell, and I said an Our Father in my head before picking up a handful of dirt and sprinkling it over him. 

   Simon took that as a signal to cover him up, and the dirt began to fill the hole as I used my hands. When he was completely covered, Negan held his hand out to me to help me to my feet. 

   "We need to go."

   "Can I just...get one minute with him? Alone?"

   He took a deep breath before letting me go, and he waved Simon in front of him, their two forms disappearing around the side of the house. As soon as they were out of sight, I took off at a run, slipping into the woods behind Father Thomas's grave, fleeing like my life depended on it.


	6. Another Delict

   Though before the end of the world I'd lived an admittedly sheltered and boring life, I'd always prided myself on my reasonable intelligence.

   I read a lot, I went to college, I liked to research things before making an important decision. But all of that flew right out the window when I'd turned and ran for the hills.

   I had exactly one thing going for me at the time: I knew this area like the back of my hand. That was the only advantage I had. No weapons, no food, no water, and no idea what to do next.

   If I was lucky, I had only a minute's head start on Negan and Simon, and I ran like I had a serial killer on my back. Zipping through the trees, I headed north to the other side of the small wooded area where a cluster of houses lay, ones that I'd been in several times over the last few years.

   Catching my foot on an overgrown root, I tumbled to the ground with a huff, my hands landing in a pool of sticky mud, and I got upright in a jiff, smacking my palms against my thighs to knock some of the goo off as I ran, all too aware that it would be dark in a matter of minutes.

   Could any reasonable person blame me? All that waited for me at the end of that long ride back to the Sanctuary was...I didn't know. And that was the problem.

   A large group of heavily armed men that took whatever they wanted from whomever they happened to run across, and a sad-looking collection of people that seemed to be there only because they didn't have a choice. Maybe they'd all been plucked from their homes, too, told that it was Negan's way or no way at all.

   If he caught up to me and captured me again, I had no idea what he'd do. I'd seen a man who appeared to be both kind and absolutely terrifying, carrying around a barbed wire bat that had most definitely spilled blood, and whether it was for a good reason or not, I didn't know. I didn't want to know. I just wanted time to grieve the end of my life as I'd known it for two years and figure out what to do going forward.

   The trees began to thin, and I slowed my pace somewhat as I scanned the area to make sure there were no other people, living or dead. The large yards were empty, and though I was dirty, sweaty and extremely thirsty, I pressed on, skirting the edges of the long grass towards a small bungalow with peeling white paint and no one inside.

   The windows were still intact, and I sped around the side of the house to the front porch before nearly swearing out loud. In the fading light, I could see that my boots had left muddy footprints on the concrete, giving away my position. I'd have to find somewhere else.

   Roughly two-dozen homes were strewn along this criss-crossing section of streets, so I headed for the furthest ones out, a set of cookie-cutter houses that were all the same style in varying colors. I'd taken food from them before, and they were abandoned pretty early on when our town was forced to move on, so I doubted I'd find anything to eat or drink there, but I'd never even bothered looking for weapons beyond a knife or two, stupidly assuming I'd never need them.

   I was barely able to see my hand in front of my face by the time I made it to the last three of the houses for at least a mile. Learning from my first mistake, I yanked off my boots before stepping foot on the brick walkway, banging my big toe as I climbed the three steps that led to the front door.

   It let out an obscenely loud squeal when I opened the door, slamming my shoulder against the wood to get it to open, and I had to do the same to get it to shut again. The darkness enveloped me as I felt my way through the living room, running into a couch, adding a bruised shin to my already throbbing toe.

   At that point, I stopped in my tracks to listen for any signs of walkers, also allowing my eyes to adjust to the lack of natural light.

    _Think, Marie. You're smart enough to figure this out._

  The first thing I needed was a weapon, and once I could make out the vaguest of shapes, I shuffled into the kitchen which was marginally better lit since there was a big window sitting over the sink and a sliding glass door that I hurriedly locked. Ignoring the overwhelming thirst that was clawing at my throat, I pulled open a handful of drawers before locating two decent sized knives, and I clutched them in my hand as I tried to find a junk drawer, hoping that there would be a flashlight in there or at least a pack of matches.

   God was on my side when my fingers brushed over a rectangular box, feeling a sandpapery strip on the side. Relieved, I dropped to the floor, shrugging on my shoes before lighting one so that I could take a quick look around and see if there was anything to eat or drink.

   Six wasted matches later, I had to face the fact that the kitchen had been completely cleaned out, and with no other options, I lit one more to help me find the basement. The first door I opened led to the garage, and the second was a closet. I could've sworn that these houses had cellars, but there was none. It wasn't until I'd closed my eyes that I remembered that there was an entrance, but it was outside, and I slammed my fist against the wall in frustration.

   With no other options available to me, I tucked the matches into my pocket, edging my way towards the bedrooms. The house was filled with stagnant air and dust, aggravating my nose, and I wiped at it before pulling the bedspread off of the bed and backing into the closet of the master bedroom.

   My nerves were vibrating as I sat the in dark, listening for any sounds of Negan or Simon, and tried to plan out my next move. If I was still alone come first light, I'd have to make sure the area was deserted before setting out on my own. I didn't have a car, but one of the houses might have a bike since I couldn't very well go back to the rectory to get mine.

   From there, I could head west, away from the way Negan drove us to his compound, and see if there were any vehicles that still had gas. I didn't know how far his territory covered, but I'd never seen him or any other of his men around our town before, so I figured he wasn't as familiar with this area, which could buy me some time to get away.

   As my body began to go limp, my thoughts drifted to Father Thomas, and I took several deep breaths to keep from crying since I had no water or immediate way to get any to replenish my system. A huge part of me was thrown at his final words to Negan, and the fact that he'd 'gift' me to a stranger like chattel. Was he so far gone at that point that he didn't know what he was saying, or did he view me as a fragile object to be passed on to another man for protection and ownership?

   And if Negan was as evil as he thought, why on earth would he want me with someone like that? There had to be good, decent people still out there. People that wouldn't scream at me, or take what belonged to others, intent on making themselves king of the world.

   My head would drop as I'd nod off, and then jerk me back into consciousness until I finally curled up on my side, resting my head on my arm as I tried to sleep. Thankfully there were no dreams, no dead sisters to chase me, ripping into me like I was a hamburger and with a groan, I opened my eyes to see faint light filtering in under the crack of the closet door.

   I opened it slowly, listening for signs that they'd found me, but I heard nothing until I stood up to stretch, and the rumble of a truck got closer, sending me back into the closet, but I left it open an inch or two so that I could hear, my heart pounding so fast that it's a wonder I didn't have a heart attack.

   Each knife was clutched in my fist as I raised up onto one knee, ready to erupt from the small room to defend myself, but not to kill. I just wanted to get away.

   The truck doors slammed in a quick one-two and I heard two male voices in the distance, and they seemed to be yelling to each other.

   "...check that one..."

   "Couldn't have gotten far...too stupid to get away..."

   Well, that hurt.

   I could hear vague pounding sounds as they most likely kicked at doors instead of just seeing if they were open, and a few minutes would pass before another loud bang would ring out. As I debated whether or not to just make a run for it through the sliding glass door, the voices got dangerously close, and I could hear the rage in Negan's voice as he slammed something.

   "You know what? Fuck her. If the dumb bitch wants to die out here, let her. She's too fucking stupid to listen, so if she wants to get a train run on her from some skeezy dipshits that are just aching to find virgin pussy, then what the fuck ever."

   "Ouch, man, that's harsh, even for you," Simon said, his voice carrying over the sound of Negan cussing.

   I should've been offended or I should've been relieved, but I was embarrassed to be talked about in that manner. Not a person, or another fellow human being. Just a hole for someone to stick it into. That it was the only value as a woman in the apocalypse that I brought to the table, and it angered me. I was rapidly working up a hatred for this man that I'd known for one day.

   "Let's get the fuck outta here," he said, the voice getting further away. "I've got five fucking wives waiting for me at home, and I coulda been up in their twats all night long, not to mention that I have a goddamned community to run. I've wasted enough time on this idiot."

   A disbelieving laugh escaped me before I clapped my hand over my mouth, nearly cutting my cheek in the process. The look on his face when Father Thomas had mentioned the five brides of Satan made sense to me now, and it was absurdly amusing in a disgusting way. Why would he need five wives if not just to be a conceited jerk that had to have his ego stroked?

   The doors slammed once again, and I could hear the engine gun as the truck sped down the street, leaving me alone with my thoughts once more.

   Now was not the time to just rush out like a chicken with my head cut off. No, it was better to be cautious, so I stayed in the closet for five, ten, then fifteen minutes.

   When the area remained silent, I finally pushed the door open as I got to my feet. Just to be safe, I held one of the knives out, and I crept to the hallway.

   Before I knew what was happening, something collided with my arm, sending the knife flying in an arc as it spun in circles, and I was slammed into the wall across from the bedroom, knocking the breath from my lungs.

   It was Negan, and he swept my legs out from under me, pinning me to the floor, my strength no match for his as I let out a weak scream, my eyes as wide as saucers. He was grinning, but it was scary, like watching a mental patient find humor in the absurd, and he pressed down on my wrist until I dropped the other knife.

   "I'm a lot more experienced than you at this, honey," he laughed as I tried to kick at him with my legs, unable to take a deep breath.

   "Let me go," I wheezed, the terror sending me into a fit. "I'll leave your area, I'll go away."

   He didn't answer, and as easily as handling a child, he had my arms crossed over my chest in just a second, using his thighs to keep me from moving as he reached into his pocket, producing the morphine bottle that I'd given to Simon, and I let out a whimper of understanding, forcing my lips to close.

   "Don't make me do this the hard way, Marie," he growled, but I shut my eyes so that I didn't have to see his face, unwilling to make anything about this roughly forcible kidnapping easy for him. "You've got some balls, but you'll never win over me."

   I squeezed them tighter, making white spots dance before my eyes, but it didn't make a difference, because he pinched my nostrils, leaving me without an airway unless I opened my mouth.

   I made it over thirty seconds before my lips popped open, and he let go of my nose, his big hand locking around my jaw to keep it open, and the nasty medicine hit my tongue, sending a numbness through the appendage as he clamped his hand over my mouth to keep me from spitting it out.

   My teeth dug into the meat of his hand, but he didn't let up, and my eyes flew open. He was still smiling, but I saw a hint of pain as I kept pressing down until I had no choice but to swallow since the medicine had caused my mouth to fill with saliva, and he lit up in triumph like he just scored the winning touchdown in the big game, wrenching his hand from my mouth.

   I'd never taken anything stronger than an aspirin, and I had no idea what the morphine was going to do to me, but I began to cry, partly out of anger but mostly from fear.

   "You really are the devil," I sobbed, slamming my head on the ground. "You're evil, you're a monster and you're kidnapping me. Just let me go."

   "It's for your own good," he muttered, rolling off me as I tried to get to my feet, my head now pounding as I started to crawl towards the door. "You were left to me, so I'm taking your ass back to where you'll be safe."

   He didn't move to stop me as I scrambled down the hallway, getting to my feet and running for the door. Maybe he knew there was really nowhere for me to go, but I ran anyway until I saw the truck turning down the end of the street, and I doubled back.

   I made it maybe half a mile when I started to feel dizzy, but I kept walking, the truck moving lazily behind me. The good news was my head wasn't throbbing anymore, but my limbs began to get sluggish, and I plodded along until my feet were swept out from under me, and my fuzzy brain told me that I was now in Negan's arms.

   "You're...the worst human being I've ever...met," I mumbled as he carried me towards the truck.

   "That's probably true," he acknowledged, "so it's better to have me on your side than against you."

   My head drooped onto his chest, and I could smell the faint bit of cologne that he was still clinging to his skin, my cheek warming against his chest.

   "I'm tired," I sighed as Simon opened the door, and his mustache looked like a wooly caterpillar sitting on top of his lip, making me laugh. "Caterpillar," I blurted, and he looked at me with raised eyebrows.

   "How much did you give her?" he asked as Negan set me down in the back seat, climbing in next to me with a shove to my backside.

   "I don't know," he muttered, watching me like a hawk. "I just poured it in her mouth."

   "Jesus, man," Simon told him in a worried voice as I blinked rapidly, the two men turning into four. "It's an opioid. She could stop breathing."

   "Well, then get in the fucking driver's seat and get us the fuck home," he snapped while I clapped my lips together, my head lolling on the headrest.

   "Hey," he said, slapping me lightly on the cheek. His eyes looked worried, the first time I'd ever seen him really concerned in the brief time we'd known each other, but I think I passed out, because everything went black, and I was at peace for the first time in days.


	7. Baptism by Fire

   When I finally opened my eyes again, my vision landed on an ornate lamp that had jeweled beads hanging from it, the light making my eyes throb, and I rubbed my aching head.

   "Sherry, she's awake," a high-pitched voice murmured from behind me, and I heard the sound of a book closing before the click of heels on the floor signaled the approach of someone.

   A young, slim woman in a simple black dress approached my side carefully, and she squatted down so that we were eye-to-eye. She was very pretty, but her brown eyes seemed hardened, like she was only wearing a mask of genteelness, and I flinched back from the stranger.

   "You're okay," she assured me, her smoky voice low and pleasant, but I continued to inch my way away from her, confused as to where I was.

   I looked around wildly for Negan as my brain began to fire up, and I remembered that he'd drugged me to take me back to his Sanctuary. But the only other person in the room was an even younger blonde-haired girl dressed in a similar outfit, also wearing a wan expression on her face.

   "He drugged me," I croaked, bringing myself to a sitting position and regretting it immediately. "I want to get out of here."

   "You can't go," the blonde said quietly. "Negan left specific instructions that you weren't to leave this floor."

   "He's not the boss of me," I replied, throwing the covers off of my body as I realized that someone had undressed me, putting me in a pair of shorts and a tank top, and I gasped. "Did he-"

   I couldn't even finish the question, too afraid to know the answer.

   "No," the blonde said, rising from her seat, smiling in encouragement. "Sherry and I got you changed when he brought you in. I'm Amber."

   I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, resting my head in my hands as I tried to get my bearings, and Amber sat down next to me, placing a cool hand on my shoulder.

   "We need to get you cleaned up and something to eat. He'll want to see you when he gets back."

   "Back?"

   "Yes, back," Sherry snorted from behind me, straightening up and leaning against the wall. "He's off doing his asshole schtick for one of the other communities."

   "Sherry, don't," Amber warned her, her cornflower eyes getting even bigger than they normally were. "You know if Carolyn hears you, she'll tattle on you."

   The girl's eyes shifted to the doorway before coming back to mine, and she got to her feet. "She's a viper."

   "You're all his...wives?" I verified, brushing my hair from my face. I still felt like I was in a dream, and that none of this was happening. I'd wake up in my own bed, and Father Thomas would be toddling around the house, humming an off-key hymn like he often did.

   "Yes, we're the lucky bitches," Sherry scoffed, circling around the bed to the dresser that sat near the door, yanking open a drawer and producing an armful of clothes. "We did our best based on the sizes you were wearing when he brought you in. As soon as you feel up to it, we'll take you to the shower and you can get changed."

   Neither of these women seemed happy about being with Negan, which only added to my uneasiness. I didn't want to be surrounded by unhappy people, and I didn't want to be dragged into any drama, my only focus was getting away.

   "Is he going to be back soon?" I wondered, and Amber stood up, walking to the door.

   "It's almost dark, so, yeah. You don't want to keep him waiting if he wants to see you."

   "You're not the first person to tell me that," I muttered, and she smiled. Not a big one, but a genuine one, and I got to my feet, swaying only slightly before taking tentative steps to follow her.

   Sherry thrust the clothes into my hands, and I was relieved to see that it wasn't a black dress. Just a pair of pants and a shirt with some undergarments, and I trailed behind them out the door, immediately dismayed to see that we were on the top floor. I briefly contemplated just running again, but Sherry must have seen my shoulders tense up, and she stopped her gait to shake her head.

   "Don't bother," she told me, taking me gently by the arm. "He's got a guard at the door. He knew you'd probably try it again."

   My spirits dropped, and I continued down the bright hall even though it made my head hurt as Amber led me to a room three doors down. We stepped inside, and it was a bathroom just as fancy and ornate as Negan's room, an assault to the eye, with brass fixtures, a marble sink, and the fanciest shower I'd ever seen. It even had one of those rain shower heads.

   Almost every inch of space was cluttered with beauty products, and my mouth dropped in amazement. What a difference compared to the bathroom near the infirmary, and I don't know why, but it surprised me at the difference between the upper echelon of this community and the lower. _Caesar and the lepers_ , I couldn't help but think.

   "We'll wait out here for you," Amber offered, shutting the door as I stood there in a daze for a few minutes.

   I had no idea how much time had passed since he'd tackled and drugged me, but I was painfully aware that I was thirsty and hungry, so in the interest of playing along, I turned on the shower, stripping my clothes and stepping inside after brushing my teeth with a brand new toothbrush that was still in the packaging.

   Negan, the wives, and my current situation. It all flowed through my mind as I washed and cleaned myself, trying to come up with a plan to get away. If I played along for a while, would it earn me some goodwill? Maybe someone would be kind enough to show me around, and tell me about where I was and what surrounded this place.

   Maybe, just maybe, I could find a way to some of these other communities that Sherry was talking about. If they weren't totally with Negan, maybe they'd have some sympathy for someone who'd been absconded by him against her will, and could help me get as far away from this area as possible.

   Fantasies of an alternate world flooded my head as I dried myself off. Maybe a little house out in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by barbed wire and a garden that I could plant myself. Or a tiny group of people that I could trust, working together to live a peaceful, sane existence. The thoughts made me smile, and I dressed myself, mildly uncomfortable that the pants were tight, and the shirt clung to my chest, the front dipping down in a large V. A little pair of flats completed the ensemble, and after combing my wet hair, I opened the door to see that Sherry and Amber were still waiting for me.

   "You look much better," Amber said before turning pink. "Not that you looked bad before," she amended, but I smiled.

   "I know what you meant. I'm sure I resembled a dirty street rat or something."

   Sherry let out a huff that sounded almost like a laugh, and I shrugged.

   "Let us do your hair," she said suddenly, and I cocked my head to the side.

   "Why?"

   "You haven't been pampered in a while, I'm guessing, and there's not much else to do while we're waiting for dinner. Please?"

   I gave her an 'I don't know' look, but she pulled me back into the bathroom with Amber right behind us.

   "It'll keep you away from Carolyn a little while longer," she said to sweeten the deal, and I shut the lid on the toilet and sat down, giving in.

   There wasn't much that could be said as the hair dryer kicked on, and I shut my eyes as the warm air splayed across my face, the feel of someone brushing my hair lulling me into a relaxed state. Having my hair brushed was one of my favorite things, and when I was a child, I'd sit for hours and have my mother do it if she'd let me. There was something so soothing about it, and I felt a lick of shame that I didn't know what happened to her after she fled.

   "Are you all right?" Amber asked as she turned off the dryer. "You look really sad."

   "Oh, I'm fine," I told her, trying to wave it off. "Just thinking about my mom."

   "Did you lose her recently?" Sherry prompted and I shook my head.

   "No, she left our town when it was evacuated at the start, and I didn't know what happened to her."

   "Why didn't you go, too?"

   "I stayed with our priest and the other Sisters," I explained, and the two looked at each other in surprise.

   "Other sisters?" Sherry asked.

   "I'm a nun," I said dully. "Or I was until yesterday when I was stripped of my vows, thanks to Negan."

   Amber gasped as Sherry shot her a look and I felt the need to explain. As they curled my hair and primped my face with makeup, I told them about my church and the past two years with Father Thomas and the nuns. When I got to the events of the previous two days, Sherry let out a disgusted sound, and she looked truly sorry.

   "Well, you're fucked," she said, though not unsympathetically. "If Negan thinks you're his now, then you're his."

   "But I'm not his," I snapped. "I don't even know the guy. He shows up at the rectory, tells me he owns everything, and drags us back here without permission. Then, he chases me down after I buried the one good thing in my life and holds me down and forces morphine down my throat."

   "It doesn't matter," Amber said with a barely-there voice.

   "But it does to me," I insisted. "I don't want to be here. Maybe you do, but I don't."

   "Nobody but Carolyn wants to be here," Sherry told me harshly before shutting her mouth with a snap of her teeth.

   I began to shake, wrapping my arms around my chest. So, he was a liar, too. He said he doesn't rape people, but he does, and I said as much before Amber held up her hands.

   "He doesn't rape us," she insisted, but she wasn't exactly defending him. "We agreed to marry him, but it wasn't because we love him or anything."

   "Then why did you?"

   I just couldn't wrap my head around it. Who would want to be with someone they didn't like. What could possibly justify it?

   "We have to go," Sherry said, ending the discussion, and I got to my feet, catching my reflection in the mirror.

   "Do you like it?" Amber asked, and I studied the woman staring back at me. I'd worn makeup before, but I didn't ever think it suited me. This looked like...not me. "You're very pretty," she said, meeting my eyes in the mirror.

   "I-thanks," I managed, turning away from the stranger with the nice hair and brighter green eyes than I ever had.

   Walking in a line, we reversed course, heading towards the stairwell before Sherry waved me into a room that had been turned into a lounge area.

   There were several expensive grey chaise lounges scattered throughout the room along with a large, funky dining room table. Like Negan's room, there was a bar in the corner and a large flat-screen tv mounted on the wall. Several pieces of decor in glossy black and grey were hung up, and the floor was covered by a rich, dark grey carpet that stood up in tufts.

   As soon as we walked in, two other women surrounded us, and I was introduced to Phoebe and Alicia. They were beautiful, the same as Sherry and Amber, and I was thrust back into high school in an instant, surrounded by girls that were blessed with a confidence and sensuality that I'd always lacked.

   The fifth and final wife came sauntering over, and I felt my heart drop as I saw it was the woman in the negligee that interrupted my conversation with Negan the previous day. She had a flinty smile on her face that exaggerated her full lips, and she looked me up and down as if I were a field mouse and she was a hawk looking for an easy meal.

   She was beautiful in an obvious way, and she was possessed with an abundance of curves, her hips and breasts jutting out in a comical way. Being the bigger person, I tried to smile warmly, extending my hand.

   "Hi, you must be Carolyn. I'm Marie."

   She sneered at my hand, and I dropped it as the other women closed rank around me.

   "So you're the one that cost me a night of good fucking, huh?" she declared, her eyes moving from my face to my chest. "At least you clean up halfway decently."

   "Carolyn, knock it off or I'm telling Negan," Sherry said, taking a step in front of me. "He already warned you that if you even so much as made her frown, he'd punish you, and I'd love to see that."

   "Please," she rolled her eyes. "I love when he punishes me," she taunted, getting in Sherry's face. "Especially when he takes his fingers and-"

   Sherry pulled me away as Carolyn laughed, steering me over to the bar while the other women scattered, resuming their spots on the couches. I didn't know these women, and I wasn't sure I could trust them, but Carolyn was bad news for sure. I knew a girl like her in high school, and she would steal boyfriends just because she could, ruining relationships and making sure the guys were enthralled before tossing them aside to move onto the next one.

   No one and nothing ever made her happy, only the thrill of the hunt. A cat chasing a baby chipmunk, playing with it, making it think it had a chance to survive before breaking its neck. That's what Carolyn reminded me of. My first impression was that she was very pretty on the outside, but the inside was as rotten as they came. I wonder if Negan knew it, too, and he just didn't care.

   It seemed he was a bully, too.

   "Do you want a drink?" Sherry asked, trying to divert my attention as Carolyn sauntered back to her spot, posing in what I'm sure she thought was a seductive manner, and everyone else ignored her.

   "I don't drink."

   "Oh, right," she muttered, filling her glass to the top and flicking an ice cube in, ignoring that it splashed onto the wood bar. She and I stood in the corner in silence until the door opened, and the blonde man with the large scar came in with a large tray of food.

   I felt Sherry tense up beside me, and the blonde gave her a furtive glance, but she turned away, staring out the window until he left. They obviously knew each other, but I didn't know the source of the tension, and I surely wasn't going to pry.

   Shaking herself out of her stupor, she took me by the hand, showing me to the seat just beside her, and she handed me a plate and a glass of water.

   There was a distinct lack of conversation as the other women ate, but I could only pick at my food, my stomach churning as it got darker, and I waited for Negan to arrive. I'd lost what appetite I had, and when I looked up, Amber and Carolyn were watching me, one with sympathy, and the other with a smirk.

   "So," Carolyn began with a dubious look, "are you going to be a wife?"

   "No," I answered. "I'm not."

   "Why? Do you think you're too good for the job?"

   The others turned to stare at me as I began to flush.

   "Leave her alone, Carolyn," Sherry warned, but the other woman ignored her, keeping her gaze on me.

   "I'm just asking the newbie a question, Sherry. Jesus, are you on the rag or something?"

   "No, I don't think I'm too good for the job," I replied, pushing my plate away. "Why would I marry someone I've known for twenty-four hours?"

   "So you don't have to live in that shithole downstairs and work for points like everyone else?" she asked as if I were a moron. "Plus you'd get to screw Negan, and he is amazing in bed."

   "God, Carolyn, since all you can do is think with your pussy, it's a wonder any blood gets to your brain," Sherry snapped, and I bit my lip so that I wouldn't smile. She was crass but tough, and I imagined that she wasn't easily intimidated.

   "Just because you're a miserable bitch doesn't mean the rest of us are," Carolyn challenged, her blue eyes sparkling. "Did you see Dwight, by the way when he brought in the food? He looks good, dontcha think?"

   Sherry's hand clenched around her knife, and I thought that she was going to fly out of her seat to kill, but Amber stood up and ushered her back towards the bar, leaving me sitting there under Carolyn's increasingly bitter stare until she got to her feet, passing by me with a whisper.

   "I've got my eyes on you, new girl."

   Great.

   Phoebe pushed herself away from the table, reaching out her hand to me like I was an invalid, and I let her lead me over to the couch. She sat me down with a smile and toddled off in her heels, returning with a book, and she handed it to me without a word.

   "Just ignore her," she said in my ear. "We all do. It gets easier after a while."

   I tried to smile back but failed, opening the book instead and glancing at the pages without really seeing them. I was too thrown by this immersion into a life I didn't want to be a part of, and I just wanted to go back to my room.

   "He's back," Amber announced around a half an hour later, hustling away from the windows and planting herself on the couch opposite me. The rest of the women followed suit, and the only one that perked up was, of course, Carolyn, who repositioned herself in her ridiculous pose.

   The air in the room changed immediately as the door flew open, the space filled up by Negan as I stared at the ground.

   "Oh, ladies, are you a sight for sore fucking eyes," he announced, and I felt Phoebe shift next to me. "My wives," he bragged, "the finest fucking women left alive."

   I couldn't help it as I started to shake, the fear and anger warring with control of my body as I felt him get closer, and I focused only on the floor, studying the swoops of material that made up the rug under my feet until his boots blocked my vision, prompting me to lift my eyes.

   I wasn't prepared to see the surprise and irritation as he took in my appearance, and he didn't look pleased.

   " _Sister Marie_ ," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm as I felt my jaw clench on its own. Carolyn was grinning like a demented troll in my peripheral vision, armed with new information, and my thighs twitched, wanting to carry me from the room. It didn't escape his attention, and he bent down to my face, licking his lower lip.

   "If you run again, I'll just catch you again, sweetheart. But next time you'll end up in a cell."

   I swallowed the alarm that bubbled up in my chest, blinking at him as he straightened himself up, the corner of his mouth curling up.

   "As much as I'd love to stay here and bask in the unconditional love that's pouring through the air, I'm feeling a little fucking anxious from not getting any tail for the past two nights," he drawled, turning to face the other couch, and I let the breath that I was holding out, waiting for him to order me to his office.

   "Carolyn, baby, come fuck my brains out. Everything else can wait until tomorrow."

   She was out of her seat like a shot, shooting me a satisfied glance before smirking at Sherry, and he wrapped his arm around her waist, stopping when he reached the door.

   Negan smacked her on the butt, and she kept going, but he turned around, looking at me with a cold expression.

   "Wipe that shit off of your face," he said dismissively. "You look ridiculous."

   It was like he'd punched me in the gut, and I felt myself go pale, the blood draining so fast that I thought I might pass out. He was gone in a second, and I bolted for the door, my fingers scraping on the wood until I heard his door shut, allowing me to flee to the bathroom, slamming the door behind me before I started to cry.

   I wasn't like the others, and I didn't need him to tell me that. I'd known it from the start. I didn't want to be, so why was I so hurt when he pointed out the obvious?

   The door opened, and Sherry barged in without knocking, her cheeks flaming red.

   "Wash your face and come with me," she ordered, turning on the sink.

   "Where are we going?" My voice was strangled as I tried to turn off the tears, wiping my eyes and getting mascara all over my hands.

   "You're spending the night in my room. Fuck that asshole. You look great."

   "But won't you get in trouble?" I said, standing up.

   "He can't hurt me any more than he's already done," she said with a tight smile. "I'm not going to let him hurt you, either. Keep your head down and your mouth shut, and we both might just be able to get out of here soon."

   From her lips to God's ears.


	8. The Inquisition, Part 2

 

   The night was an eye-opener for me for many reasons. The introduction to Negan's wives and his cutting manner where I was concerned were disconcerting. I don't know what I'd done to be belittled in front of the other women, but it took some time with Sherry to put me back into perspective, especially after she told me her own story.

   We were huddled up on her bed, and in between several glasses of wine, she filled me in on how she became one of Negan's wives. It was one of the saddest stories I'd ever been told, and I couldn't quite believe that she was still standing, having to see Dwight subject himself day after day under the man to whom Sherry was now tied to.

   "What else could I do?" Sherry muttered, but I didn't think she was talking to me. "If we hadn't run in the first place, it never would've gotten to this."

   "Couldn't you just ask him to let you go?" I naively asked, shrinking back from her glare.

   "How did that work out for you?"

   "I'm sorry," I apologized, feeling like a jerk. "I just...I don't know."

   "If I could go back in time, I would have just kept running. But Negan's everywhere. He's got so many men working for him, the chances of getting away were too daunting. But every day, seeing Dwight have to work his ass off and having to yolk myself to a man that I don't love, that I can barely stand to look at, it just, it's like death by a thousand cuts. I can't do it anymore," she said, tipping the glass to her lips.

   My heart ached for her, because as bad as I felt, at least I didn't have to face someone that I loved and see the hurt and betrayal in their eyes as I sat up in relative safety. No wonder she wanted to get away.

   "But if you leave, what would happen to Dwight? Would he be able to go with you?" I wondered, laying my head down on the pillow.

   "I don't know," she admitted, setting the cup down on the nightstand as she flopped down to face me. "I hope he would, but I just don't know if we could go back to what we were before."

   "Do you love him? If you do, there's always hope."

   "You're an optimist to the bone," she murmured, patting my arm. "Tomorrow I'll show you around so you can get a good idea of what happens around here. It's going to take some time to figure out how to make this work. But between us, we'll come up with something," she said in a sleepy voice, her eyes closing slowly.

   I followed suit, though it took me much longer to finally fall asleep, my thoughts torn between my own unhappiness and this new person's that had been tossed into my life, not that I minded. We would've never been friends in the other world, but here, she was something calm in the eye of the hurricane that had destroyed my life, and I was clinging to the promise of better days ahead. If I kept my faith, I could make it through this storm. Named Negan.

   The door was flung open the next morning, and I sat up with a shriek to see Carolyn standing in the doorway with a condescending leer on her face.

   "Is that why you became a nun?" she asked, twirling a piece of hair around her long, red-painted fingernail. "You were batting for the other team and couldn't live with it?"

   A pillow flew through the air, hitting her in the chest, and she stumbled back a step.

   "Don't you say a fucking word, Marie," Sherry ordered me, "you're not telling her shit about yourself."

   Carolyn glared between the two of us as Sherry sat up, rubbing her temples.

   "I've warned you before not to come in my room, bitch."

   "I'm not in your room, you fucking lush. Breakfast is here, and then dear hubby wants to see the virgin," she seethed, turning on her heel and stomping away.

   "One of these days," Sherry vowed, lurching from the bed. "Come on, let's go get ready."

   I wasn't used to this as I followed behind her. Cattiness and backbiting. Was that all they did all day between drinks?

   Twenty minutes later, we were dressed and heading down the hall to the lounge, Sherry in another black dress, and me in a flowing sundress with pink flowers on a black background and a pair of sandals.

   Sherry had insisted on making up my face again despite my protests.

   "Think of it as your war paint, Marie," she explained, her tongue sticking out slightly as she brushed eyeshadow over my eyes. "Every time you meet with Negan, every stupid conversation you have with him is going to be a battle, and this is your protection. You need to be prepared, because everything you say can ignite a war."

   This was the worst pep talk I'd ever received and she brushed the mascara wand over my lashes before she noticed the expression on my face.

   "I'm not trying to freak you out," she said, running her hand over my arm. "I just want you to be prepared. You're not at church anymore."

   "I know that."

   "No, you don't," she said, setting down the makeup and taking me by both shoulders, giving me a little shake. "You're tougher than you think you are. If you survived this long, it's because you're strong. No matter what he thinks, he's just a man."

   I gave her a smile so that she could feel like she'd helped me, even though I knew I was hopelessly outmatched here, but she straightened up, pulling me to my feet and forcing me to turn around to face the mirror.

   "Do you know why Carolyn's targeting you?" she asked, looking at me in the mirror and I shook my head, assuming it was because I wasn't up to her level.

   "Because she's threatened by you. You're pretty and kind and you've done what she couldn't. You survived without depending on some idiotic man."

   "I'm still here, though," I murmured, looking at my own reflection. "I still ended up here."

   "Look at yourself," she said, even though I was. "I know deep down that you haven't heard it enough, but you are a beautiful woman, inside and out. Don't doubt yourself," she whispered as my eyes began to water. "Or me."

   It was like finding an ice cold cup of water after spending the last two years wandering around the desert. Someone to believe in me and encourage me when they weren't required to do so out of obligation. Sherry hadn't dedicated her life to a greater good, and if she thought I was worth more than being just an object to be passed around, then I'd try my best to not let her down.

   I took a deep breath before giving her a grin, and she headed out the door as I rubbed my arms, wary of showing so much skin, though compared to the other women I was probably closer to wearing a turtleneck. If the only blessing in being brought here was finding another friend, then I guess it was worth it.

   The other women were already seated, drinking coffee or eating from a bowl of fresh fruit, and when we walked in, Alicia and Phoebe gave me a welcoming look. Carolyn looked up, her eyes widening for a split second before she rolled them so hard it's a wonder that they didn't fly out of her head and disappear into a corner.

   Taking the same seat I had the night before, I forced myself to actually consume food, waving off the coffee and downing a large glass of water instead. The conversation was superficial, with Alicia talking about a dream she'd had the night before, though I struggled to keep up as I waited to meet with Negan. I didn't know where or when it would happen until Simon came strolling in, his eyes lighting up with relief, and I gave him a crooked smile.

   "It's good to see you up and moving," he said before beckoning me to follow him, and I felt Sherry squeeze my hand under the table. "The last time I laid eyes on you, you were stumbling around like a drunk."

   "Well, it wasn't my choice," I reminded him, and he nodded before resuming a businesslike facade.

   "You're meeting with Negan in his office, and we'll go from there," he told me, turning down the hall towards the light wood doors. After knocking twice, he waited for permission to enter, opening the door only after receiving the okay.

   Guiding me in with a gentle hand at the small of my back, I prepared for the worst, and I wasn't disappointed. As soon as I came into his line of sight, his mouth disappeared into a thin line and his eyes narrowed dangerously, causing me to run my hand nervously across my collarbone. It took a superhuman effort, but I straightened out my posture as if Sherry was watching me, waiting for instruction on what to do next.

   "Simon, I want you at the collection from the Kingdom," he said, getting to his feet and crossing the room in just a few steps. "Gavin says they've been acting twitchy on the last few pickups and I want to know what's going on."

   "You got it, boss," he said, giving me a wink before departing, leaving me just a foot from Negan as he looked me up and down.

   "Didn't I tell you to wash that shit off last night?"

   "This is new makeup," I said, hoping he wouldn't yell. "Sherry put it on me."

   "Always trying to fucking undermine me," he muttered, pointing to the chair as I hurried around him, happy to sit down so that my legs didn't begin to shake.

    _You're a survivor_ , I told myself. _You can do anything that you set your mind to._

   He positioned himself back in his chair, his fingers running over the handle of his bat as he looked from my waist to my chest, then finally up to my eyes. Everywhere his gaze went, it felt like I had a heated laser on my skin, and I sat back in the chair to try to break his focus, but it didn't work.

   "What do you want, Marie?" he finally asked, his fist closing around the handle of the bat, giving it a squeeze before setting it on a stand just behind his head.

   "Does it really matter what I want?" I answered softly, smoothing down the front of my dress. "It only matters what _you_ want, as far as I've been told."

   His eyes darkened at my words, and I could see his chest moving up and down rapidly. I assumed it was anger, and I braced for another outburst, but he got himself back under control. "I'm not going to get what I want," I reasoned, "so why don't you please just tell me what you expect of me?"

   "I expect you to fucking fall in line. That's what the hell I expect. Your little stunt yesterday was a one-time thing, just so we're clear. I'm willing to cut you some slack given what you'd gone through, but I'm not in the business of third chances. It makes you look weak, and I am most definitely not weak."

   I bit back my words, and I saw his eyebrows raise, the smirk that I'd come to resent spilling across his lips.

   "There's a lion buried inside that little lamb," he grinned, cocking his head to the side. "Isn't that one of your bible stories? The lion and the lamb?"

   I just nodded, not bothering to correct him as to the true words and he huffed lightly, running his hand through his hair, the dimples in his cheeks deepening, sending a weird shudder through my body. Suddenly, I could smell his cologne, like he'd sprinkled it all over the room, and a flush feeling began to creep up my chest.

   "Problem?" Negan asked, clicking his tongue against his teeth as I shook my head, my hair flying back and forth.

   "Too much coffee," I lied, ashamed of myself. One day out of the church and I was already blatantly telling falsehoods. I was damned for sure.

   "Mmmhmm," he murmured, standing up to stretch. His shirt rose up, and I caught a hint of his stomach, sparse black hairs dotting the skin, propelling me to look down at my knees until he took the chair next to me, putting us in an uncomfortably close situation.

   "I'm going to give you a once in a lifetime opportunity," he told me, turning my seat so that we were face to face instead of side to side, and I shifted so that my backside was pressed against the back of the chair, crossing my legs at the ankle. I could feel the heat from his body as he kept himself mere inches from my face. "A needle in the haystack moment. A, 'holy shit, I just pulled the Hope fucking Diamond out of this claw machine game' moment. You see, I'm giving you," he purred, drawing out the moment, "one chance to tell me what you really think of me."

   I was naive, there was no question about that, but I wasn't stupid, so I shook my head, pursing my lips. I wasn't going to fall for whatever trap he was laying down for me to stumble into.

   "I don't let anyone, and I mean _anyone_ tell me what they think of me. One, because I don't give a fuck, and two, because when you let people assume that you might give a shit, they'll think that they have power over you. And no one has more power than I do. But for you, I'm making an exception."

   "Why? Why would you possibly care what I think of you?"

   "I just want to know, and leave it at that. So lay it on me, and then we can get down to business. There will be no repercussions, I swear."

   I refused to answer until he pulled the chair closer, our knees brushing up against each other, and I fought the urge to scoot myself back. He was in my personal space, and I didn't like it. Not at all.

   "I swear on Lucille, the most important thing in my life."

   "Lucille?" I blurted, thinking back to the women in the lounge. Was there another wife I didn't know about?

   "My bat."

   I almost laughed, but the look on his face stopped me. He was deadly serious, and the words flew out of my mouth before I could even think about them.

   "You're every bully I've ever met, all wrapped up into one," I said, taking a deep breath. "If you give a mean, insecure person a taste of power, they're absolutely corrupted, and if I could go the rest of my life with never seeing your face again, I'd die happy. You barged into my world, punching and scaring the only sweet man that was probably left on earth, and I think you directly caused his death, no matter how confused he was."

   Once I started, I couldn't stop, though to his credit he didn't try to make me.

   "You stole me away from the only home I've known since I left school, and you hurt me. You pinned me down and forced drugs on me, all because you think you own everyone and everything that's left in the world. I don't know what you were like before the world fell, but Father Thomas was wrong. You're beyond redemption. There's no hope for you, and besides the fear of leaving behind everything that I loved, I'm terrified that you're going to be the death of me. Worse than that, you're going to turn me into someone like you, and in that case I'd rather be dead. I've already been stripped of my freedom and my identity, and that doesn't bother you at all. That makes you scarier than any dead person that's still walking around. Also, the fact that you have five wives is creepy."

   I'd run out of breath while I was rambling, and I sucked the air back into my lungs as he stared at me, his mouth forming a little 'o'.

   Flinching slightly, I waited for retaliation, but it didn't come.

   "Did you get it out of your system?" he asked crisply as I wiped at my eyes.

   "No," I admitted, looking away from him. "I know I'm not like the pretty girls you're used to, but it hurt my feelings when you insulted me last night."

   He growled at me. I swear on my life that he actually growled at me, and I shut my eyes, expecting a tirade, but again, it was quiet until I finally took a hitching breath, opening them back up.

   "Sharing time is officially over," he snapped, pushing the chair back, and I held onto the arms as I slid almost to the wall. He sprung up from his seat, walking back behind his desk and fingering Lucille while I began to perspire.

   "I can't send you onto the floor, since you have no survival skills. You'd be eaten alive, at least for now," he said over his shoulder, keeping his head down. "You're going to do my paperwork and stay on this floor. And you're going to train. You will do everything you're told, no questions asked, no fighting it. When I want you by my side, you're by my side. You'll take meeting notes, and you'll do the inventory."

   Disappointment flooded my system, but I took the time to put my face together before he turned back around.

   "Your only other option is to become my wife," he said, and my head shook automatically. "Stand up."

   I did as I was told, pushing the chair back to its original position as he opened one of the desk drawers, pulling out a necklace. He approached me brusquely, twirling his finger in a circle, and I got the hint to turn around.

   A gold chain with a pendant came down in front of my face, the cool metal settling on my chest, just above my cleavage, and I could feel the sides of his hands as he fastened it to my neck, brushing my hair out of the way. Once the strings were connected, he rested his hands on my shoulders, the warmth sending electric shocks down my bare arms.

   The push of his grip prompted me to turn around, and I found myself staring up into his face, seeing a look of seriousness there that scared me.

   "This necklace is your protection, you understand? If you're wearing this, it means you're untouchable. Everyone from my lieutenants on down knows not to mess with you," he said, plucking the pendant from my skin and holding it so that I could just see it. It was a thick, gold oval with the letter N in the center, formed by diamonds or rhinestones. Most likely diamonds, I assumed, even though they held no real value anymore. "Do not, and I mean it, _do not go anywhere_ without it."

   "Okay."

   "Promise me," he insisted with an unnerving look, digging his fingers into my shoulders, and I dropped them down, trying to get free. It hurt.

   "I promise."

   "Then go see Sherry and tell her to show you around and get you some supplies. You start tomorrow morning."

   "Thank you," I said, wanting to slap myself for my stupid manners. Why was I thanking him for branding me like cattle and keeping me under his thumb at all times? What an idiot I was. He released his vice grip on me and I hurried to the door, wanting to get the smell of his cologne out of my nose, but he called my name as I opened the door and I turned around.

   "I don't think you're ugly."

   Not knowing what to say, I slipped out, shutting the door behind me. I wasn't sure how to feel about that.

 


	9. Sunday School

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the shorter chapter, but I wanted to advance the timeline by just a couple weeks to see how Marie is reacting. Enjoy!

   "This is the third time I've called on you, Angel. Don't make me do it again."

   My head snapped up to see that Negan, Dwight, and Simon were all watching me, and I fidgeted in my seat.

   "I'm sorry," I apologized with a smile, my cheeks feeling warm. "I got lost in the numbers."

   Negan had started calling me Angel on my first day, and though it was meant as an insult at first, I think, he did it almost without thinking now, and the sarcasm was usually lacking. Usually.

   "What's the total number of guns they've handed over through the first of the month?" he asked again, clearly annoyed as I scanned the paper.

   "Three dozen handguns, and one machine gun," I said after a moment, counting up the accompanying boxes of ammunition. "No bullets for the machine gun, but six boxes for the handguns," I offered before he could ask, and he nodded.

   "Simon, make sure Gavin knows that if they produce any more weapons without bullets, he's going to have to let us into the Kingdom. It doesn't matter what agreement we made, I want to know where they're finding this shit."

   We'd been going over the most recent pickups, as Negan liked to call them. I preferred extortion items, but I kept that to myself. My eyes were blurry from staring at numbers and my hand was cramped from transferring the chicken scratch pieces of paper that his lieutenants handed in onto the official paperwork.

 

   In the three weeks that I'd been here, I'd learned quite a bit of useful information about the way that this placed operated. Mainly that there were two large communities that the Saviors visited at a regular interval. The ones known as the Kingdom and the Hilltop provided most of the items that passed through here. There were also five or six small groups that turned over whatever they found, and the amounts varied from visit to visit, but Negan always instructed his lieutenants on what was expected if he didn't accompany them on their collections. If they didn't produce, they were given twenty-four hours to right the wrong, and if they didn't someone had to pay.

   It was usually a smaller or weaker person, someone who wouldn't interfere with Negan's well-run racket, though he quickly took out anyone that he thought could be a problem. I'd learned firsthand how brutal his Lucille could be only two days into my indentured servitude when he'd returned from a group that was living in a library, and the bat had been covered in gore.

   Negan had been in what could best be described as a foul mood, and he'd ordered me out of his office with a look that sent chills down my spine, and I'd left the papers in a stack on the table, shaken by the sight.

   The next day, he'd acted like nothing ever happened, though he gave me a challenging look, as if daring me to say something about what I'd witnessed. I'd be lying if I didn't say that I spent that night with Sherry, who'd been obligated to console me.

   "Never underestimate who he is or what he does," she told me, rubbing my back as I cried. "This is what life is like here. He doesn't have morals or values, and the sooner you accept that the world isn't what you left behind, the easier it will be to get through this."

   I looked up at her with a tearstained face, and she raised her eyebrows. "What?"

   "I don't want to say. I don't want to make you mad."

   "I won't get mad," she promised, and I picked at a hangnail on my thumb.

   "How could you sleep with him?" I asked, afraid to look at her. "How do any of you have sex with him knowing what he does?"

   She reached for her glass of alcohol like she always did when faced with one of my stupid questions. Sherry seemed to understand that I needed to wrap my head around the way things worked here and why people did the things they did, even when it went against all of their principles.

   "At first, it was just numbness," she said, and I could hear the sadness that washed over her. "I didn't feel anything when I lost Dwight to my foolish decision, and when you have nothing left, even just feeling something physically can keep you going. Negan isn't worth the ground I walk on, but he knows his way around a woman's body."

   "But," she sighed, "I would take a quickie with Dwight over a mindblowing orgasm with Negan any day." She winked at me as my face turned pink. "I know you're probably judging me, Marie, and that's okay. I judge myself every day, so don't feel bad."

  "I'm not judging you, I swear. It's not my place to. Besides, you and I have led two very different lives, and I know I wouldn't have been as strong as you. I admire you, believe it or not."

   She didn't, but she smiled anyway before popping back into the lounge for more to drink. While she was gone, I made a promise to myself to get her to stop drinking so much. It wasn't good for her, and if we were going to get out of here, we both needed to be at our best. The future promised to be hard, and I wanted to make sure she was physically ready.

    I also learned more about Negan, much to my dismay. I had hoped to just compute numbers and keep track of supplies, but working with him came with a lot of conversation. The man kept a running commentary on everything, whether it was about whatever task we were working on, or the books he liked to read. Sports, new Sanctuary members. It didn't matter. He loved to talk, and I think he secretly enjoyed the sound of his own voice, a deep rumbling that wasn't wholly unpleasant if he wasn't spewing curse words at me or being completely vulgar.

   He also had a weird sense of humor, ping-ponging from juvenile to disgusting, and he had a joke for just about any situation. More than once I found myself chuckling at a stupid rhyme, and he'd seem unnecessarily pleased, gifting me with a smile that simultaneously annoyed and bothered me for reasons I wasn't quite willing to think about.

   He was a monster dressed in the skin of a very attractive man, maybe the most attractive man I'd ever seen in real life. The problem was, he knew it, and he flaunted it, using it to get his way with everyone in the Sanctuary when the situation called for non-violence or intimidation.

   In between his incessant yapping, he'd question me about my life before, refusing to let me wheedle my way out of an answer. Where I grew up, what led me to devote my life to the Church. Even the subjects I studied, and I didn't know if he was genuinely interested or was just fishing for information that could be used against me at a later date.

   The only thing I'd refused to discuss was my father, and he'd made a tasteless joke in retaliation.

   "What, did he touch you in your no-no place? Or did he not touch you, and you wanted him to?" he snorted until he saw the look on my face and he bent down in front of me, looking abashed.

   "Hey, I'm sorry Angel," he murmured, reaching out to touch me before retracting his hand. "I'm an asshole, I know. I didn't mean anything by it."

   "It's fine," I said automatically, my lips so stiff that they may have had rigor mortis.

   "He didn't, did he?"

   The words were hesitant, and he actually looked like a caring human being for once. "Because if he did, I'd gladly hunt him down and introduce him to Lucille for you."

   "No, he didn't. I just don't want to talk about him. Please."

   He'd let the matter drop until I got up to leave, and he took me by the arm.

   "I am sorry," he said, his fingers splaying out along my sleeve. "Is there anything I can do?"

   "How about two Hail Mary's and an Our Father?" I offered, and he blinked in surprise until I gave him a small smile. He grinned back, dipping his head down.

   "There's a little bit of that lioness."

 

   Now, we were finally wrapping up on day twenty-one and I put my things together to go as Simon and Dwight took their leave, the door closing behind them.

   "Call down and order us some dinner," he told me, shrugging out of his coat, and I got another view of his stomach, those little black hairs peeking out, distracting me.

   "Oh, sure," I said, reaching for the radio.

   "You don't sound enthused," he observed, tossing the coat on the couch as he approached me. "Did you have a hot date or something?"

   "No, but they're having a game night in the common area."

   He snorted, taking the radio out of my hands.

   "Yeah, that sounds like your type of fun," he mocked, but I only shrugged. "Go ahead, but send Carolyn to me."

   Now I was his pimp or something, and I didn't sign up for that, but he shot me a look, and I hustled out.

   I made a detour to the lounge where Carolyn was sprawled out on one of the sofas reading a magazine.

   "Negan wants you," I called out, not waiting for a response.

   Carolyn hated me. There were no two ways about it, and I tried to avoid her at all costs because if I didn't, all I was in for were insults and veiled threats. When I'd left Negan's office with a new job and a necklace, she'd almost ripped it off my neck, her nails scraping along my skin.

   "Where did you get this?" she'd hissed, her eyes boring into mine.

   "Negan gave it to me," I said, trying to take a step back, but she had a firm hold of the pendant. "He said I had to wear it at all times."

   " _You_ said you weren't going to be a wife, you fucking liar."

   "Let her go, or I swear to God, I'll knock your ass into next week."

   We both turned to see Sherry standing there with a drink in her hand and a clenched fist.

   "What she does is none of your concern," Sherry said, striding towards us as Carolyn let go of the necklace, and it dropped back onto my chest. "Paint your fucking nails, curl your hair, and get ready to spend the night on your back. That's all that concerns you."

   Carolyn had stormed off, and every day since I'd worked very hard to not spend any time alone with her. Shamefully, I'd also prayed for her every night. It was a hard habit to break, praying for others, and one I wasn't sure I wanted to give up. It didn't hurt anyone, and if God was listening, then all the better. Even though she now knew I wasn't a wife, she still looked at me like I was mold on the ceiling and she needed to get rid of me.

   

   My thoughts turned to the evening ahead, and I went straight to my room to freshen up, a tingling excitement making my stomach flip in a good way as I changed clothes, pulling my hair up into a ponytail and brushing a light pink gloss onto my lips. Sherry insisted that I wear makeup whenever possible, and aside from some grumbling from Negan, there didn't seem to be any further issues.

   I had on a pair of jeans and cute baseball t-shirt with bright red sleeves, my pendant carefully hidden underneath. I was comfortable and casual, and I sat on my bed, pulling on a pair of crisp white Keds. As I headed towards the steps, I passed by Carolyn and Negan, who were all over each other in the hall.

   He caught sight of me, and his mouth dropped in surprise for just a moment, his eyes following the swing of my ponytail as I passed by with a smile.

   "Have a good night," I said pleasantly, opening the door to the stairwell and practically skipping down to the main floor.

   Negan knew about game night, but he didn't know about Charlie, and that was all right with me.


	10. Diocese of a Madman

 

   My first trip through the Sanctuary had been like being thrust into a third-world country when I'd been living in Buckingham Palace.

   People living on cots with only a handful of possessions to their names, separated by sheets hung on clotheslines. If they were important enough, or lucky enough to have a room of their own, they were shoved two and three into spaces half the size of a motel room. Only the upper 'management' were alotted nicer rooms, but none matched the top floor, feeding my guilt.

   I had one way to assuage it, and it was thanks to my points. Because I wasn't a wife, I wasn't given unlimited access to everything. I'd been set up under the points system, but I'd been gifted a staggering amount, more than I'd ever be able to spend, and they were replenished daily.

   Sherry had taken me around, leading me through the vendor area, pointing out different things that were for sale. There was also a permanent store near the lounge that held most of the luxury items, and the Saviors took what they wanted at will.

   So, how did I subvert Negan's carefully orchestrated bartering system that left so many struggling?

   I bought things for people. Every day for the past two weeks, I'd find someone who was in need, and I'd spent a part of my points helping them out. Food or personal items were most in demand, and I'd have the vendors bill them under my name. It not only helped others, it made me feel good, like I was undoing just a little bit of Negan's minor bad deeds. I couldn't do anything about the loss of life, but it was something. My need to help, to serve was being fed, and beyond that, it introduced me to some really good people.

   One of them was Charlie.

   It had taken me a week to get enough courage to go downstairs by myself. I had only gone down with Sherry or Phoebe, trailing behind them like a puppy. Since everyone knew who they were, they were untouchable, and after several trips down with them, I finally felt confident enough to navigate my way through the crowds of strangers, bracing myself for a barrage of insults, but none came.

   Instead, I was thoroughly ignored as I walked through the building.

   Negan had gone out on a pickup, leaving me free for an afternoon about a week after I arrived. I'd wandered around the top floor, seeking out Sherry to see if she wanted to go down with me, but she was napping.

   Phoebe and Alicia were in the middle of a monster thousand-piece puzzle, and Carolyn was gone, slipping down the steps as soon as Negan's truck left the facility. Where she went, I have no idea, but I wasn't going to complain.

   I didn't want to read, even though I'd found a new book in the vendor area when I went down with Phoebe a few days before. I was jonesing for something different. A little excitement in my life since I had a chance to get out from under Negan's thumb, and before I could second guess myself, I headed downstairs, deciding to have lunch in the cafeteria.

   After waiting in line, I carried my tray to an empty table, one of only a handful in the large room, and I was back in high school all over again, that nervous feeling on the first day of not knowing who to sit with or where I belonged. But I was an adult now, and I tried to walk with confidence, sitting down carefully and faking a laid-back attitude.

   The food was edible, and that was the best thing I could say about it, and since I wasn't one to waste things, I ate it dutifully, some combination of steamed potatoes and a mishmash of different kinds of pasta covered in stewed tomatoes. After choking down my last bite, I washed my mouth with the cup full of water that I'd been allotted, the liquid going down the wrong pipe when a pleasant voice rang out from behind me.

   "Do you mind if I join you?"

   After letting out a large cough, I turned to find a young man holding a tray of food, and he appeared amused. I nodded, wiping at my eyes as he sat down next to me.

   He was on the young side, maybe in his mid to late twenties, and he was dressed in a shabby pair jeans and a dull white shirt, a few holes dotting the collar. But he had bright, friendly brown eyes and a sweet smile, his wavy brown hair tousled along his forehead. He wasn't a knockout in the traditional sense, at least not compared to Negan, but he was handsome, and he looked much more friendly.

   "I didn't mean to make you choke," he said with a shy smile. "If I'd known you were taking a drink, I wouldn't have spoken up."

   "It's fine," I assured him, my mouth watering from the scratchy feeling.

   "I don't think I've seen you around before," he said, tucking into his food, taking a large bite before wiping his mouth.

   "Oh, I've only been here a week," I replied as he nodded in understanding. "I don't get much downtime."

   "What job did they place you in?"

   "Bookkeeper, basically," I said, keeping it vague. For some reason, I didn't want him to know that I was on the top floor. I didn't want him to make assumptions about me or even try to get in Negan's good graces. Sherry had warned me that people were prone to do that, willing to try anything in order to better their situations.

   He stuck out his hand, and I shook it, feeling a tingling in my arm as he gave me a gentle squeeze. Why the heck did this happen every time a man touched me now?

   "I'm Charlie."

   "Marie."

   "It's nice to meet you, Marie," he said, reverting his gaze to his plate after he let me go. "Are you here with family?"

   "No, I'm on my own," I admitted. "This place takes some getting used to."

   "That's an understatement," he grinned, taking another forkful of potatoes. "I was in a group that was rounded up by the Saviors. We were too small to be useful to Negan out there, so he offered us the chance to come here and work."

   "Oh, I'm sorry," I said, dismayed. Was there anyone that really wanted to be here besides Negan and Simon?

   "Don't be," he replied, giving me a breezy smile. "It's not so bad. I get to go out on the scavenging groups, and then I have a booth set up to make some extra points."

   He told me that he was allowed to keep any plants and herbs that he found, provided they weren't drug related, and he dried and packaged them himself. Spices and aromatics were the most common ones, and he also made decorative arrangements.

   "Those don't sell, but they're pretty to look at," he admitted.

   When he was done eating, he offered to show me around the marketplace, and I thanked him as he carried my tray back to the service line. I found him to be very sweet, and most definitely attractive, not that I should've, since I was only a week removed from my vows, but I couldn't help it. There was something about his smile that drew me in. It was still effervescent, still full of joy, something that was desperately needed in this grey, oppressive place.

   He waved his arm for me to follow, and we headed to the thickest part of the floor sales. All around us, people were offering up their items for sale, and he introduced me to several of the people that were working.

   Derek was offering clothing, all used but in good condition, while Debra and Gale had trinkets and toys for sale. There wasn't much demand for frivolous things like that, but I saw one young girl standing off to the side, eyeing a stuffed elephant, her face full of longing.

   "How much do you want for it?" I asked, pointing to the stuffed animal, and Gale checked her notebook.

   "It's twenty points."

   "I'll take it," I said, giving her my name. Her eyebrows rose when she saw what I had banked, but she didn't say anything, marking it down to be turned in at the end of the day and handing me the elephant.

   I walked over to the girl, giving her a cheerful smile as I squatted down. "Here you go," I said, holding it out.

   She was distrustful, watching me with suspicion until Charlie loped over. "It's okay, Amelia. She's giving it to you."

   Amelia snatched it out of my hand as if I were going to take it away from her, whispering a thank you before running off, disappearing into the crowd.

   I got myself upright, and Charlie whistled in appreciation, making my cheeks flush.

   "That was really nice of you. I don't think I've ever seen someone buy something and give it away before in the six months I've been here."

   I tried to downplay it, using an offhand voice. "Well, I don't really need much, and I earn decent points with my job. It's not a big deal."

   We stood there in an uncomfortable silence, one of those funky ones when you've just met someone, and you're not sure what to talk about.

   "Do you-"

   "Would you-"

   We both spoke at the same time, and I let out a nervous laugh as his eyes crinkled up.

   "Ladies first," he said, inclining his head.

   "Oh, I was just wondering if you could show me your booth."

  _Lame, lame, lame,_ I told myself, but his eyes lit up, and he smiled, sending a burst of warmth through my chest.

   He led me to the far corner of the marketplace, just under a large pipe that jutted out of the wall. There were a row of lockers, pale green monstrosities lined up underneath it, and he pulled a set of keys out of his pocket, unlocking them easily. Inside were dozens of jars of all shapes and sizes, filled with dried green plants and herbs, all tied with twine.

   He had oregano, perfectly dried, some plants still whole and others that he'd ground up. There was St. John's Wort, mint, rose hips, and even lavender. The bottles were colorful and nicely sized, and I looked at them in wonder, impressed that he was so resourceful.

   "How do you know what's what out there?" I asked, inhaling deeply when he opened a jar of the lavender.

   "My wife was a florist and a bit of a plant nut, so I picked up a lot of it from her," he said, plucking one of the bottles and running his finger along the top. "Our house was filled with plants and little window gardens. It was almost like a jungle inside."

   There was a little pain in his voice, and a whole lot of sadness, but he cleared his throat and set it back down carefully. "I lost her about a year ago."

   "I'm so sorry for your loss," I murmured, replacing the cap and handing it back to him.

   "She'd get a kick out of me doing this, I think," he replied before pulling out a lavender wreath.

   "How much do you want for that?"

   "No, you don't have to buy anything," he insisted but I reached out for it with a smile. 

   "I want it, really," I said, flicking my fingers at him. "It'll dress up my room."

   He tried to talk me out of it, but I was insistent, and he finally relented, taking out his points book. We haggled over the cost since I knew he was trying to practically give it to me, and I remained firm on paying the true price. He'd probably worked hard on it, and it was only fair. Charlie grudgingly gave in, and I was all the happier for it.

   While he put his bottles away, I studied his little corner of the marketplace, realizing that this was also where he slept. Shoved up between the lockers and the corner of the wall was an old cot with a pillow and a blanket set on top. He noticed me staring when he turned around, and he seemed self-conscious, so I thanked him for the wreath.

   "Is there anything else you want to check out?"

   I was happy with my purchase, but I let him take me around to every booth, meeting more of the people that lived and worked in this area. Most were nice, although some of them were wary of meeting me, a stranger that they couldn't place and didn't trust. Everyone seemed to like him, though, and when we finally made it to the outer door, he shook my hand again.

   "I've got to get back to my booth, but it was really nice meeting you," he said with a smile and I jostled the wreath to take his hand, struck again by how warm they were. "If you ever get bored, some of us like to get together in the lounge and hang out."

   "That would be great," I told him, and he ducked out the doorway with another wave, leaving me standing there with a grin. I'd finally met some people that weren't wives and weren't Simon and Dwight, and it was like a light had been switched on in my life. Maybe I didn't have to be surrounded by unhappy people all of the time.

   Over the next two weeks, I tried to visit the floor every day, and Charlie and I got to know each other. I didn't tell him about my reasons for ending up at the Sanctuary, but I did tell him that I'd lived a simple life. A quiet and boring life. Feelings of guilt over not revealing my past with the church niggled at me, but I didn't want him or his friends to see me like everyone else did. A muted, fragile thing. I just wanted to be Marie.

   He, however, told me all about his past, and he and his wife met in grade school. They were attached at the hip from then on, dating all through high school and marrying right after. They'd never had kids, but were trying when everything started to go bad. Sadly, it wasn't the dead that had killed her, but a fever or the flu. Without modern medicine, she couldn't recover, even though he'd gone out and found some of the herbs that he knew could help. It was too late, and she'd passed in his arms.

   I couldn't imagine the pain of losing someone that I'd planned to spend the rest of my life with, and I struggled to find the words to console him, but he tried to put me at ease.

   "It's okay," he said, giving me a smile. "I know that she's in a better place, and she's not suffering."

   He'd changed the subject, and didn't bring her up again. Whenever he wasn't on the road scavenging and I wasn't with Negan, we'd eat together, and he taught me about the different plants that grew in the area, even finding me a book in the marketplace. I found it fascinating, and tried to read about at least one plant in the evening, studying the drawings and trying to picture them in my mind. When I got out of here, it would be a good skill to have.

   In the evenings when I wasn't working, I'd go down to the lounge where large groups would sit around and play games or listen to records, or if the weather was nice, we'd go outside in the common area, set far enough away from both the building and the fences that were surrounded by the dead.

 

   Tonight, however, was game night, and after I'd passed Negan and Carolyn in the hall practically undressing each other, I hurried down the steps to the lounge where Charlie, Derek, and his friend Jackie were occupying a folding table with a deck of cards in front of them.

   "Hey, I was just getting ready to send out a search party," he joked as I took my seat opposite him. The past two nights in the lounge we'd played cards, usually bridge, and I'm proud to say that Charlie and I were undefeated, much to Derek's annoyance. He had all the temper of Negan without the dark rage flowing underneath it, preferring to take most of the anger out on himself.

   "You're going down tonight," Derek taunted as Jackie rolled her eyes, taking a swig of her drink. I was the teetotaler among the group, and they often teased me that I lived like a monk.

  _If they only knew_ , I thought, shuddering every time they said it.

   "You've said that for the past two nights," Charlie reminded him as he gave me a wink, and I laughed. "You're all talk, man."

   "Really?" Derek snickered, giving me a funny look. "Do you really want to go there about being all talk? Because I can ruin your life right now."

   "Drop it," Charlie muttered, his eyes flickering over to me, and I felt a tingle of fear and longing roll down my spine. I may have been imagining it, but I could swear they were talking about me, and I wanted to vomit.

   "Just deal the cards," Jackie snapped, breaking the tension, and Derek shuffled the deck.

   The atmosphere settled down after that, and we turned our attention to the game, the first two hands going to Derek and Jackie. We were able to rebound, evening it up, leading to a fifth and final hand.

   When the final points were counted, our streak remained intact, sending a good-natured stream of cuss words our way, and Jackie stood up, joining the group at the makeshift bar to get another drink.

   Charlie gave me a high-five across the table as I grinned like a dummy, and Derek gathered up the cards.

   "You two make a good team," he said pointedly before flicking the cards into a basket behind him, heading over to Jackie and the others, leaving Charlie and I sitting in an awkward silence. I could feel my face heating up, and I excused myself to go out and get some fresh air, leaving him sitting by himself.

   I liked Charlie. I really liked him, but the thought of changing our friendship scared me for about a million reasons. The first was that I was woefully inexperienced with men, not having even had a date since high school. Other than a few makeout sessions, I'd never gone any further, so the thought of putting myself out there physically made me almost sick to my stomach.

   Then there was the fact that I felt like I was betraying the vows I made to the church. I'd given up the relationship part of my life for all intents and purposes, but whether it was witnessed or not, Father Thomas had released me from them. He didn't want me tied to them after he was gone, but I didn't know why. Was it only because there was no church left to serve, or was there another purpose? I didn't know and I'd never find out because he was gone.

   The biggest reason was that I didn't intend to stay here. I shouldn't get close to anyone when I was going to try to leave. There didn't seem to be a point to getting attached to Charlie when I couldn't take him with me or risk being put into a situation like Sherry was when she and Dwight tried to escape.

   There was also the very likely possibility that Charlie had no interest in me other than friendship, no matter what Derek was trying to insinuate. He'd never even tried anything in the time that we spent together. No hand holding, no attempted kisses, no flowery words. We just hung out together.

   It was dark outside when I slipped out, parking myself in the common area, hiding in the shadows like a vampire, afraid that if the light hit me, it would expose all of my insecurities and weaknesses.

   "Marie?"

   Charlie was scanning the area, and I considered not saying anything, but he'd see me eventually, and then I'd look like a weirdo, so I called back.

   "I'm over here," I said, and he turned, looking blindly until he saw my shirt, I guess, and he ambled over, brushing his hair off of his forehead before getting down on the ground next to me.

   "Is everything all right?" he asked as he crossed his legs, mimicking my position, our knees resting against each other.

   "Oh, I'm fine," I lied, not even feeling guilty this time. "I just got overheated for a second."

   "I'm sorry if Derek made you uncomfortable," he mumbled, picking at a clump of grass between our legs, his arm brushing against my legs, sending a wave of fire along my skin.

   "He didn't," my newly lying liar self said much too quickly.

   "He's trying to push me into taking the next step, but I don't want to make this awkward because I don't even know if you like me as anything more than a friend, and I don't want to ruin that."

   I found it very hard to breathe in that instant, and I was grateful that we were sitting in the dark, because if I'd had to look him in the eye, I might have lost my nerve. But I leaned forward and kissed him very softly on the lips.

   They were soft and warm, and a heady sensation washed over me as he pressed them more urgently against mine. For a brief spell, I got lost in the feeling of his mouth, moving gently, though neither one of us took it any further. When we broke apart, I let out a shaky breath as he ran his thumb across my cheek.

   "That was better than I imagined it would be," he said, and my cheeks heated up against his hand as I laughed softly before turning serious.

   "Is it okay if we take this slowly?" I asked, and his hand curled around my face.

   "Absolutely," he said, tipping his head so that our foreheads were touching.

   I'm not sure how long we sat like that, but it didn't feel long enough, and he finally got to his feet, pulling me up with him. He didn't try to kiss me again, but he did hold my hand, linking his fingers with mine until we reached sight of the guards that were set up on top of the fence.

   "Do you want me to walk you up to your room?" he asked as we walked back inside, but I shook my head. I still hadn't told him that I lived on the top floor. He'd assumed that I lived with roommates, and I never corrected him.

   "I'll be fine," I said with a shy smile. "But I'll see you tomorrow?"

   "Definitely," he grinned, his eyes dropping to my lips. He leaned in minutely, like he wanted to kiss me again before taking a deep breath and a step back. "Sweet dreams, Marie," he said in a soft voice, waiting there as I headed for the steps.

   I may or may not have hit every step on my way up since I was floating on a cloud of happiness, and if anyone was in the stairwell with me, they probably would've asked me if I hit my head since I felt so goofy and elated. Or I was until I got to the top floor and opened my door to find Negan sitting on my bed thumbing through my bible.

   Letting out a little yip, I jumped back as my heart lodged itself somewhere just under my chin, but he didn't so much as even look up, his fingers turning the pages slowly. I had the feeling that he'd been sitting there a while, and I stood just outside the door, unsure of what to do.

   "There are some very interesting passages in here," he said, his eyes still on the book. His voice was cool and even and I edged my way in, my hands twisting at the bottom of my shirt.

   "For instance, I find this one from Proverbs to be very fucking interesting. 'Whoever conceals their sins does not prosper, but the one who confesses and renounces them finds mercy'."

   He closed the book with a pop, locking eyes with me, and it was like someone doused me with a bucket of ice water.

   Negan flipped the book onto my bed as he rose, taking slow and calculating steps forward until he was looking down at me, his eyes so cold and remote that I almost flinched in pain.

   "Do you have anything to confess, Angel?" he asked in a soft voice, so close to me that I could smell the alcohol wafting off of him, my eyes starting to water.

   "No," I breathed, pressing my hands against my thighs so that they didn't tremble. I hadn't done anything wrong, had I?

   "Are you sure?"

   "Yes."

   Negan brushed past me, staggering slightly as I stood there in shock. "Then pleasant dreams, Angel. I'll be seeing you in the morning."

   He disappeared into his room and I shut my door with tremulous hands, sitting down on my bed with a shuddering breath. Whatever he was referring to wasn't good. It was even worse that I couldn't possibly imagine what it was.


	11. A Public Confession

 

   By the time I worked up enough courage to leave my room the next morning, Negan was gone. I'd breathed a sigh of relief when I walked into the lounge and Amber told me that he was out on the road, but that there were a stack of papers for me to work on.

   I sat down at the dining room table, forming the dirty sheets of paper into a neat pile, pulling out a fresh pencil and settling into work transferring the points totals into the official ledger when the bright yellow streaks of highlighter that had been haphazardly marked on several of the sheets caught my eye. As I scanned them, a sickening feeling settled in my chest as I realized they were all my transactions.

   Was this what Negan was referring to last night when he'd ambushed me in my room?

   To say that I'd had a long night of worry was an understatement. While laying in bed, my thoughts would drift between Charlie and Negan, producing very different responses in me. I would think about Charlie and feel a flush of excitement and happiness, and then Negan's face would appear and I'd feel dread.

   Now that I had a possible reason as to why he was angry with me, I wracked my brain as to what to do. I'd never been told that I couldn't use my points on other people, and I hadn't been careless with them. The thought that I had to ask permission to use my points on others chafed at me, yet another in a long line of things that were done to me or for me that I hadn't asked for.

  Amber sat down next to me, and I looked up to give her a smile, but I was shaken by the look on her face.

   "What's wrong?"

   I'd never seen her cry in the three weeks I'd been here, not that she was a walking ball of sunshine, but she burst into tears, dropping her head onto the table. Unnerved, I let go of my pencil, reaching over to rub her shoulder. She didn't say anything, she just continued to sob until Sherry came in, shooting me a look as I shrugged.

   "Amber, what's going on?" she asked, taking the seat next to her.

   The girl continued to cry for a few moments before looking up at Sherry with a red, blotchy face.

   "I'm late," she whispered, and Sherry reeled back in surprise.

   "Amber, no," she huffed, sending the blonde into another teary fit. "It's not Negan's, is it? He'll know that."

   I kept my mouth shut, unsure of what to say. If it wasn't Negan's, whose was it?

   "How late are you?" Sherry asked, pulling Amber to her feet.

   "Just a few days, but Mark and I..."

   "Come on," Sherry ordered her, shooting me a look as I sat there helplessly. "We need to get a test."

   "No," Amber pleaded, yanking her back. "I can't. Dr. Carson will tell Negan. He'll have to. Let's just wait."

   Suddenly, I had a thought, and I cleared my throat.

   "I have an idea," I muttered, causing both women to turn towards me, but just as I started to explain, Carolyn came wandering in, her eyes narrowing as she took in Amber's condition.

   "Let's go, Amber," she muttered, steering the girl out of the room before glancing at me, leaving me alone with Carolyn.

   "What was that about?" Carolyn pressed, standing over me as I dropped my head, moving at a breakneck pace to finish my work. My worries about myself had fallen to the wayside in light of Amber's fearful state. I had been told over and over again about Negan's expectations regarding his wives, and the punishment for betraying him was brutal.

   Not for them, of course, but for the man.

   "I don't know," I muttered, not looking up. "Wife problems aren't any of my business."

   She snorted before going to their little refrigerator, pulling out a bottle of water and going over to her favorite couch. Man, she was lazy.

   It took me two hours to transcribe everything, and I had a painful crick in my neck when I was done, ignoring it as I packed everything up and stuffed it into the bag that was sitting on the table.

   I hung it on Negan's doorknob before stopping back in my room and grabbing a tiny sack of my own, trying not to look rushed as I passed back by the lounge towards the steps.

   When I got downstairs, the cafeteria was crowded, but I bypassed everyone to head into the marketplace, my heart beginning to speed up as I made my way to the corner.

   Charlie was engaged in a serious discussion with an older woman who was pointing to two jars of herbs as I approached, and he glanced over, giving me a sweet smile. It made me feel warm inside, my stomach pooling with the urge to kiss him again, but I stood just behind the woman, who was dressed in ratty clothes, her hair knotted and greasy.

   "I can only go down to fifty apiece," he explained as her shoulders drooped.

   "But I only have forty points," she begged, and I stepped up, placing my hand softly on her shoulder, making her jump.

   "I'll pay for them," I offered as she shrugged away from me, looking frightened.

   "Why?" she asked in confusion.

   "Because I can," I said simply. At least for now.

   Charlie kept his head down, marking it on his points tracking sheet before handing the two large bottles to the woman who took me by the wrist, her dirty hand digging into my skin.

   "Bless you," she whispered before skirting off through the crowd.

   I watched her disappear before turning around to see Charlie watching me with a smile.

   "I was hoping you'd be here earlier," he murmured, motioning for me to come around the table, and I felt my heart beating double time as he took my hand, bringing it to his lips to kiss it.

   "I had to finish my work," I said, sitting down on his cot as he perched next to me. He smelled good, like rosemary and pine, and I enjoyed just breathing in and out next to him while I collected my thoughts.

   I thought I would be embarrassed after what happened between us the night before, but other than the increased physical response due to my attraction to him, I didn't feel guilty, or that it was wrong. It felt right.

   "Can I ask you a question?"

   "Sure," he replied, a slight hesitation before he answered.

   "Do you...do you have anything, any herbs here that could help bring around a woman's...monthly visitor?"

   "Uhhh," he stammered, looking at me strangely, and I waved my hands back and forth.

   "It's not for me," I insisted, my face heating up. "I have a friend that's worried, and I didn't know if there was anything natural that could help her so that she didn't have to go to the infirmary."

   Charlie's face cleared, and he stood up, unlocking one of his green lockers and rummaging around, producing a handful of bottles.

   "I have a few things that can be made into a tea that are supposed to do it," he explained, lining them up on the table. "There are no guarantees, though."

   I exhaled in relief, coming to stand next to him as he showed me the different remedies, writing down the amounts and directions on a piece of paper. He totaled up a number of points after trying in vain to just gift them to me, and I shoved everything in my bag along with the directions.

   "I'll be back soon," I told him, giving his hand a squeeze.

   "Do you want to meet me for lunch in an hour?" he asked, prompting me to nod.

   Taking off through the crowd, I headed back up the steps, stopping first in Amber's room, but it was empty. Figuring that she was still with Sherry, I knocked on her door, flinching when it was flung open roughly.

   "Sorry," she apologized, stepping to the side. "I thought it was Carolyn again."

   Amber was lying on the bed, staring at the wall, and I sat down next to her, pulling out the bottles and laying them next to her along with the directions.

   "Try this before you go to see Dr. Carson," I told her as her eyes drifted down in surprise. "They could help."

   "Where did you get this?" Sherry asked, kneeling on the bed next to me, picking up the paper and studying it. "Will this work?"

   "I can't guarantee it will work, but Charlie knows his plants. It's a natural remedy to help bring on a cycle," I said awkwardly, avoiding her pointed gaze.

   "Charlie?"

   I turned back around to face Amber, who sat up with a hopeful look. She unscrewed the cap on one of the bottles, taking a sniff before rearing back, her nose wrinkling.

   "Eww."

   "Marie," Sherry said in a warning tone, and I avoided her gaze. "Who is Charlie?"

   "He's my friend," I whispered, getting to my feet.

   "Does he know who you are?" she asked, and Amber's eyes drifted back and forth between us like a tennis match.

   "Who am I, Sherry? I'm not a wife."

   "It doesn't matter, Marie," she hissed, getting off of the bed and taking me by the shoulders. "Does Negan know that you're spending time with a guy named Charlie?"

   "No," I admitted, feeling like a teenage girl getting busted by her mother.

   Amber gathered up the bottles, plucking the paper off of the bed before leaving with a worried glance to me.

   "Sit down," Sherry demanded, and I plopped down on her bed, anxious to get back downstairs.

   "You've been through a lot of changes in a very short time, and you're being exposed to things you are not used to," she said carefully, taking my hand in hers as she sat next to me. "I don't want you to get hurt."

   "I'm not a child," I muttered, and she raised her eyebrows.

   "I didn't say you were," she replied, her mouth quirking up into a smile. "But you're not exactly a worldly woman either, and that makes you very appealing to a lot of men. I don't know this Charlie, but I want you to be careful, especially where Negan's concerned."

   I opened my mouth to protest, but she cut me off.

   "You may not be a wife, but he considers you his," she pointed out, pulling my necklace out from under my shirt. "He's possessive, and this not only marks you as under his protection, it marks you as his."

   "But that's not fair," I whined. There was no other word for it. I was whining. "He's the one who got me kicked out of my church. I know," I said hastily, seeing the look on her face. "I know there was no church left, but I still had my vows and now they're gone. He brought me here, so why can't I do my best to fit in until we leave?"

   "Just...be careful," she said, giving up for the moment, pulling me into a hug. "Is he cute?"

   I laughed as we broke apart. "He's really nice. He has kind eyes."

   "I'll go help Amber," she muttered as we walked towards the lounge, the smell of the funny herbs wafting through the air. I continued on as she veered off, my feet picking up speed as I traversed down the steps to the bottom floor.

   The hallway was crowded with people heading to lunch, and I slipped in between two large groups of people, trailing at a snail's pace as they ambled towards the cafeteria.

   The crush of bodies surrounding me were hot and smelly, the collected funk of people who only showered sporadically, and I tried to breathe through my mouth, all too aware of my privilege living under Negan's umbrella of protection.

   Once we reached the cavernous room, my face cleared as I spied Charlie, Jackie, and Derek, who were all grouped together at a table, their trays already sitting in front of them. They didn't see me, so I took my place in line, my foot tapping impatiently as I slowly got closer to the food. I'd skipped breakfast, so I loaded up my plate with a normal amount of lunch, rather than the half portion that I usually took.

   Today they were serving steamed vegetables and a plain broth, and I balanced it carefully as I weaved through the tables of residents, the sounds of conversation filling the air until Derek caught sight of me, poking Charlie in the side.

   He turned, rising from his seat, and he took my tray, setting it down next to him as Derek switched seats.

   "Hey," he greeted me, squeezing my shoulder gently, and I waved to the others before sitting down. They were already done eating, and they chatted while I had lunch, general conversation about how their day had gone so far and what was happening this evening.

   "It's movie night in the lounge," Derek told me, winking at Charlie. "Unless you two have other plans."

   "Grow up, Derek," Jackie muttered, rolling her eyes. "You need to get another hobby."

   "But it's fun," he protested, eyeing my face as it turned what I could only imagine was the color of a tomato.

   "You can go, now," Charlie offered, and Jackie pulled Derek to his feet, steering him towards the door. "I'm sorry about that."

   "It's fine," I assured him, taking a deep breath as I finished my food. When I was done, he reached for my hand, taking it in his and setting it under the table on his knee. I turned to the side to face him, the feel of his skin against mine like warm silk, even though his fingers were rough and calloused.

   I looked into his eyes, those warm, big brown eyes, and I must confess that I kind of got lost in them, the sounds around me drowning out as he stared back into mine. 

   Vaguely, I became aware that it wasn't just my brain that was drowning out the noise. The sounds had actually come to a grinding halt, and I tore my gaze away, my heart seizing in alarm as I saw why.

   Negan was in the cafeteria, and the people around us hurried to get down on their knees as he strode towards me, his bat resting on his shoulder. He was smiling, but it was cold, calculating as he looked from Charlie to me, and I pulled my hand out from under the table, which didn't escape his notice.

   Charlie scrambled out of his seat to kneel down, and I rose to do the same, but Negan's hand came up, and he stopped just six inches from Charlie's body.

   "Oh, no, Angel, no need to kneel down," he said with a laugh, but his eyes glanced down before focusing back on me. "I know there's only one place you like to kneel."

   My mouth popped open at the insinuation, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw Charlie's head twitch slightly.

   "On your feet, people," he ordered, and everyone stood up in unison as he pushed Charlie back to his seat. I could feel his leg shaking as he sat down next to me, and my palms became slick with perspiration when Negan set his bat down on the table with a thunk, Simon and a few others hovering behind him.

   Half the people in the cafeteria scattered, but the rest were in awe of the free show they'd been given and they watched in open fascination as I felt hives beginning to form on my chest.

   Negan sat down across from me, drumming his fingers on the table as my hands clenched into fists, but he didn't say anything. He just smiled that smile, the one that told you nothing and everything.

   "So, who do we have here, Angel?" he asked. "Care to introduce me?"

   Simon shifted slightly, catching my eye, and he gave me a warning look. A sad look.

   "Negan, this is Charlie," I managed to squeak out. "Charlie, this is Negan."

   I couldn't have said any more if my life depended on it, and I knew that the points he'd highlighted for me were a red herring. _This_ is what I was supposed to confess. _This_ was my sin.

   "Well, it's damn nice to meet you, boy," he bellowed, making me jump as he extended his gloved hand across the table, and to Charlie's credit, his own hand was relatively steady as he shook it quickly. He went to let go, but Negan kept a firm hold of it, asserting his dominance before sitting back. "A little birdie told me that you've been spending quite a bit of time with Marie, here. In fact," he said, licking his lips as he addressed me and not him, "a whole gaggle of birdies have brought it to my attention, and I have to ask why?"

   I went to say something, I don't even know what, but Negan shot me a murderous glare and I shrank back against the chair, wanting to slide off my seat onto the floor and crawl away. This was going to end with heartbreak for me, I knew it in my heart.

   "I don't understand, sir," Charlie spoke, the fear and confusion written all over his features as Negan turned his attention back to him.

   "Well, let me break it down for you, Chuckie," he said, leaning over the table, over Lucille. "Marie is a fucking nun, and I have to wonder why you're sniffing around her lily-white cotton panties?"

   He said it like I was an idiot. Like being a nun made me mentally handicapped, incapable of making decisions of my own, and I felt my chin begin to tremble.

   "Not to mention the fact that she's mine," he hissed, his arm striking out like a snake to pull my necklace front and center, showing him the pendant with the large N marking me. "Are you using her to better your circumstances, Chuckie?"

   "No, sir," he stammered, his eyes wide. "I didn't know that she was..."

   Negan's eyebrow rose, and he let the medallion drop, the N catching against my sternum.

   "Marie? Is that true? You didn't tell him who you are?"

   My voice caught in my throat as I felt nearly fifty pairs of eyes burning into me. It was deathly quiet as I shook my head. "No."

   "Oh, Chuckie, you are lucky that I am in a damn fine mood," he said as he got up, picking up Lucille in one fluid motion. "I'm going to give you a chance to think about what you really want in this place. And if it's little Sister Marie here, well, you need to tell me right now."

   I couldn't look at either of them, my entire body as cold as ice.

   "I'm so sorry, Marie," he murmured, getting to his feet, and I could hear Negan clap him on the back before the sound of his footsteps retreated.

   There were a few nicks in the Formica table, and I stared at them without seeing them, just immersing myself in my utter humiliation, witnessed by more people than should be allowed to see the sick display Negan had just put on. But that was the point, I guess. I needed to be taught a lesson, and it had to be public, or else what was the point?

   Negan tapped the table with his bat, and I looked up into his face, hating him at that moment. His eyes were blank, and I lurched to my feet, my face crumpling as I pushed past him, evading Simon's outstretched arms, fleeing the building as people continued to stare at me.


	12. Holy Spirits

  
   The cold walls of the Sanctuary weren't bothering me as much anymore, even though the sun was going down and I'd been sitting with my back against them for hours. I'd gotten up once, and that was after I was sure that the cafeteria was empty between meals.

   I'd snuck in with my head down and my hair covering my face, hightailing it to the luxury store and plucking a bottle of alcohol before slinking back out to my spot at the back of the building. The spot where Charlie and I had kissed the night before.

   One day.

   Less than one day.

   It was all the happiness I'd get in this place, I knew that now. I'd found a dandelion growing in a crack of crappy concrete, and with one crush of his boot, Negan had stamped it out, and he'd keep doing it every time I found one. 

   I don't know why he cared what I did with my time. It's not like he interacted me outside his office, so why did it matter what I did or who I spent my hours with?

   Aside from the epic humiliation that I'd just been subjected to was the blooming hurt that Charlie had just up and left me there. I tried to be understanding, to appreciate the position he'd been put in, and I knew that I'd played a major part by not telling him who I was and who I'd been before being brought here. But it still stung that he took off with only a muted apology. Still, I supposed if I was in his position and I had Negan subtly threatening me, I'd take off, too.

   Sherry had been right. I was too sheltered, and I didn't know enough about how things worked around here, apparently.

   The good news was that the sickly sweet clear liquid that I was sucking down was dulling the pain slightly. It wasn't completely gone, but it had lessened to a muted ache in my heart. Maybe Sherry had the right idea about that, too. I could just spend the rest of my days in a drunken haze, blocking out the reality of being in Negan's world.

   "What are you doing, kid?"

   I tipped my head slightly to see Simon approaching, and I brought my knees up to my chest, wrapping my arms tightly around them.

   "I'm not a kid, Simon. I'm a grown woman."

   "It's just a term of endearment," he said genially, sitting down next to me. Plucking my bottle off of the ground, he squinted in the fading light before grimacing. "Peach schnapps? That's fucking gross."

   "I don't drink," I reminded him. "Anything harder would probably kill me."

   Simon untwisted the cap, taking a long gulp before groaning softly and handing it to me. It really was gross, but it was doing exactly what I wanted it to.

   "Why are you drinking this, aside from the obvious?" he questioned, taking it back from me and putting the cap back on.

   "Rumspringa," I muttered, staring out at the purple and orange streaks that hovered above the ground.

   "Is that a type of alcohol?"

   A dry chuckle escaped my lips and I turned my head to look at him.

   "Amish kids go through rumspringa in their teens," I explained, reaching for the bottle again even though my stomach was starting to hurt. "They can drive cars, kinda immerse themselves in outside culture and decide if they want to stay exclusively in the church. A bit of a coming of age thing."

   "And that's what you think you're going through now?" he asked curiously as I snorted, taking another large swallow of the schnapps before gagging.

   "What would you call it?"

   My eyes were watering as he took the bottle again, this time setting it on his other side before taking out a cigarette and lighting it.

   "I don't know."

   "Simon? Can I ask you a question?"

   "Fire away," he said, taking a drag off of his smoke, blowing it up into the encroaching darkness.

   "How long did Negan know? About Charlie?"

   Simon flicked the cigarette, dropping an ash just beyond his boot as he looked at me with a serious expression. "Two weeks."

   "He knew the whole time?"

   "Of course, kid," he said as if I were stupid. "He knows everything that goes on in this place, whether people think so or not."

   I tipped my head back to stare up at the single star that had emerged, pondering if it was the north star. Wondering if it would lead me someplace safe like it did for Mary and Joseph.

   "Why did he do that to me? Why would he care what I do if it doesn't affect him? I wasn't bothering anybody. I was happy for the first time in a long time."

   Simon continued to smoke, and the silence grew as I waited for an answer. He didn't respond until he stubbed the cigarette out in the grass, the embers glowing orange as I took a shuddering breath.

   "I don't know," he admitted with a sigh. "He saw you sitting with him at the table making googly eyes at each other, and he snapped. I am sorry, kid. I know this has been rough on you, but you really are better off here," as I shook my head in denial.

   "You're-" I struggled to find the right words, afraid of offending him. "You're his second, and from what I've heard, you're as...tough...severe as he is."

   I could see Simon's eyebrows raise slightly in the twilight, and I hurried to continue.

   "But you've always been really kind to me. I guess I'm just wondering why. Is it because you see me as an idiot, too? Too stupid to function in this place?"

   "I think it's because you remind me of my daughter. How she used to be."

   "I didn't know you have a daughter," I said, feeling guilty that I'd never asked him anything about himself. Granted, it's not like we spent copious amounts of time together, but I'd never thought to do it.

   "Had," he corrected me. "She was sweet like you. Maybe a little on the innocent side until she got involved with a bad crowd. Got addicted to drugs, and she ended up overdosing. She was only nineteen."

   "I'm so sorry," I whispered, laying my hand on his forearm, overcome with sadness for him. It seemed everyone had their demons, things they just wanted to forget in this dead, cold new world.

   "Like I said, she was a good kid. I know you hate it when people say it, but you're innocent. It doesn't make you stupid, it makes you vulnerable, though. Some of the people here will take advantage of it, and maybe I think that if I keep an eye on you, you won't fall in with a bad crowd."

   "Charlie's not like that," I murmured. "He didn't know who I was. He liked me for me. It felt good to have someone like me without judging me for who I am. Who I was."

   "Well, I like you for who you are," he said, climbing to his feet. "I know it's not the same, but this, too, shall pass."

   He extended his hand to pull me to my feet, but I stayed on the ground. I didn't want to go back in there, yet. I didn't want to have to go upstairs to where he was. Probably waiting to smirk at me and belittle me. I just wanted to be outside where I could wallow in my shame and heartbreak.

   "You can't stay out here forever," he reminded me. "Sooner or later you have to go in there."

   "Look," he said, squatting down in front of me. "I'm loyal to Negan. We've been together for a long time. It doesn't mean I agree with everything he does. I don't agree with the way he handled this, but if you fold now, you'll never earn your independence. You have to fight for everything you want in this place."

   "But it always has a price, right?" I said angrily. "Nothing's free here."

   "Nothing worth having is free, Marie."

   "Love is. Happiness is."

   He let out another sigh, choosing not to respond, and I took his hand after grabbing my bottle, but as soon as I stood up, the alcohol started to hit me, and I felt a wave of dizziness, swaying slightly.

   "Oh, boy," I muttered.

   "Welcome to the downward slope of getting drunk, kid."

   Simon guided me by the arm as I stumbled, feeling janky, and I could feel the blood rushing in my head, a vaguely sickly sensation coupled with a distinct lack of caring. As we rounded the corner, I began to see double, and I had a flashback to Negan drugging me with morphine.

   "Are you going to puke?" he asked as I kept my mouth closed. I didn't think I would as long as I didn't open it.

   The inside of the building was bright, at least to me. Too bright, and I squinted as he guided me to the steps. I was quickly becoming uncoordinated, and he slowed down as we climbed the steps, and excruciating exercise in futility until he finally scooped me up with a huff, carrying me the rest of the way as I clung to my bottle, the liquid sloshing around.

   When we got to the top floor, he set me down, holding me steady with one hand while he opened the door to the other. Lucky for me, Negan was standing there with a look of supreme irritation, like I was the one who'd screwed him over. I looked through him, and it seemed to piss him off more.

   "She's fucking drunk?" he snapped, and I lurched away from Simon's grip as he took the bottle, stumbling towards my room, now very sure that I was going to be sick.

   Negan followed behind me, his mouth going nonstop, but I had no idea what he was saying, all of my concentration on getting to the bathroom before I vomited. Sherry appeared as I passed the lounge, and I could see that she was upset, but I waved her off.

   Once I got to the door, I turned around, sweating profusely, and I focused my bleary eyes on Negan to the best of my ability since he was still talking.

   "Don't you ever shut up?" I screeched, wheeling around and dropping to my knees on the tile in front of the toilet, only just getting the lid up before I retched, all of the alcohol coming up. Nothing but clear liquid came out as I choked and rasped, feeling the dizziness hitting me over and over like waves crashing against the shore.

   Somewhere in the recesses of my brain, I was aware of someone pulling my hair away from my face, clumsily tying it back with a rubber band, and when I swung my head to the side, resting my cheek on the cool porcelain, I saw that it was Negan, and he was looking down at me with a grim expression.

   Angry, I smacked his hands away from me.

   "Don't touch me," I said in a froggy voice. "Everything you touch turns to shit."

   His eyes widened in surprise. It was the first time I'd sworn in years, and of course, it was directed at him. The surprise quickly turned back to anger, and he moved around me to sit on the edge of the sink, I'm sure to be able to look down on me from an even higher angle.

   "I warned you last night," he said, and I turned my face back into the toilet, preferring to look at vomit rather than him.

   "You're just jealous," I said into the water.

   "Excuse the fuck outta me?"

   "You're jealous that I found someone who likes me, and you only have wives that hate you. No one loves you, and you had to bribe them to even be with you."

   I would've said more, but it was probably better for my future that another wave of nausea took over, and I heaved into the toilet again, suddenly afraid that I would never stop. Gradually it did, and I was so far gone, so overheated that I stripped my shirt off right in front of him, flinging it over my head.

   Letting out a relieved sigh, I slumped onto the cool tiles, desperate for any sort of reprieve from the hell that I'd willingly sent myself to.

   Negan was still sitting there, staring down at me, even in my inebriated state, I could see that he was looking from my chest to my face. What a pig.

   "I hate you," I murmured, and he jumped down, stomping out of the room.

   "Sherry," I heard him yell, and the sound of heels clicking on the floor getting closer. "Get her to bed. I want to know the second she wakes up."

   A door slammed a moment later, and Sherry came in, kneeling down next to me after getting a cold washcloth and laying it on my forehead.

   "Oh, sweetie, what were you thinking? This isn't going to take the pain away," Sherry said, running her nails through my damp hair.

   I could feel the tears coming again, and I shut my eyes.

   "He ruins everything. He's ruined my life twice in the past month. Why? Why does he do it?"

   "He's Negan," she whispered, and I could hear her voice catch. "It's what he does."

   I'm not sure how much time had passed, but when I was reasonably sure that I wasn't going to throw up again, I got into a sitting position, breathing through the shifting reality until I got my bearings again.

   Sherry wrapped a towel around me, taking me into my room and helping me get undressed and under the covers. I had to lay on my back due to the room spinning, and she sat with me as my eyes started to close.

   Tomorrow I had to deal with Negan. But tonight, my pain was my companion. And I reveled in it, images of Charlie and freedom slipping away as I got further into unconsciousness.


	13. Judas Revisited

  
   I woke up the next morning with a mouth full of cotton, a pounding in my head, and an abdomen that ached like I'd done a hundred sit-ups. All of that paled in comparison to the fear of seeing Negan.

   I'd been rude and obstinate, and I was mortified at the things I'd said to him, unable to help myself in the throes of misery. So many stories had been passed around about his temper with people who'd slighted him and defied him. I could only imagine what awaited me after I'd surely insulted him.

   Someone, probably Sherry, had placed a cup of water and two aspirin on my nightstand, and I reached out with shaky hands, placing them on my tongue and swallowing before I sat up, very carefully. As soon as I did, John Bonham belted out the pounding drum solo of Moby Dick on my skull, and a whimper fell from my lips as I held my head between my hands, willing it all to stop.

   I definitely had to be the dumbest person alive.

   Once I was sure I wasn't going to die from standing up, I made my way slowly to the dresser, grabbing fresh clothes before opening my door a crack. The hallway was clear, and I wobbled to and fro until I reached the bathroom, shutting the door behind me with a groan. I distantly recalled Negan shouting to Sherry that he wanted to know as soon as I woke up, and I hoped I could get as much time to recover as possible before our inevitable face-to-face.

   I kept the shower lukewarm so that I didn't pass out, and once I was clean, I sat down on the floor to get my bearings, letting myself air dry until it was time to buck up and get dressed. I couldn't summon up the energy to put on my war paint, so I left my face clean, pulling my hair up into a bun before stepping back out, taking slow and deliberate steps towards Negan's room. If I hid, if I cowered, he'd smell blood in the water, and I had a feeling my punishment would be that much worse.

   Simon's words came floating back into my mind, a fleeting plea to stay strong so that I could get what I wanted, and I braced myself as I knocked on his door.

   It opened almost immediately, and Negan was standing there with a grin on his face that sent my blood humming in anxiety.

   "Well, good morning, Angel," he nearly shouted, the drumming in my head intensifying as my eyes closed on their own. "You look as fresh as a daisy. I've been waiting for you."

   He opened the door all of the way, motioning for me to enter, and I took tentative steps, nearly reversing course as I caught the scent of his cologne. It was oppressive, and I wondered if he'd bathed in it, the fumes practically wafting off of him, sending my salivary glands into overdrive as I tried to breathe through my mouth. Yep, this was going to be bad.

   "Have a seat," he said, his voice the same level, and I plodded over to the couch, sitting down heavily as he shut the door with a slam. I wanted to press my hands to my head again, but I didn't, instead keeping my eyes on the table as I noticed a tray from the kitchen sitting there with a cover on it.

   "I took the liberty of getting you some breakfast," he said, crossing his leg over his knee as he chuckled. "Go on," he urged with a grin. "Dig in."

   There was nothing I could do about the tremors in my hand as I reached for the cover, and my stomach roiled as I pulled it off. Sitting on the tray was a small glass and my bottle of peach schnapps. Dropping the cover onto the table, I sat back, shaking my head, but Negan leaned forward, opening the bottle and pouring a shot's worth into the glass.

   His eyes were on me the whole time, and he didn't spill a drop. Once again, I was in way over my head, and I knew that if I refused, he'd just do something even worse.

  _I'm Joan of Arc_ , I told myself. _I'm Nathan Hale. He can't break me or my conviction. He can't take away my soul_.

  "Come on," he urged me in a silky voice, his eyes boring into mine. "You wanted to be a big girl, now you have to pay the big girl consequences."

   It was so condescending and offensive that I took the glass and drained it before my brain could override it, choking it down and covering my mouth with my hand so that I didn't puke it back up.

   "Good job, Angel," he praised, pouring another round. "Now, do you know why you're being punished?"

   I shook my head, sure that if I spoke, I'd get sick. Plus, I didn't want to give him the satisfaction.

   "You, were very disrespectful last night," he chided, taking on a fatherly tone. "It was very out of character for you, and I want to make sure that we keep you on the straight and narrow. You're a good girl, remember? And we're going to keep you that way. It's what Father Thomas would want."

   He pushed the cup towards me as I seethed over his words. How dare he bring up Father Thomas to me?

   I glared at him the best I could, swallowing the disgusting liquid down and slamming the glass on the tray. He smiled indulgently, and if I didn't know who he was, it would've been a sweet sight. It made his face look more like an angel than a devil, but as such, it was all I could do not to scream in frustration.

   "I take partial responsibility," he said, standing up and crossing over to the couch, sitting down right next to me. I couldn't help the groan that escaped my throat as he leaned in towards me, making sure I could smell the cologne. "I gave you too much freedom way too soon. You're like a golden retriever that's visiting the beach for the first time. I let you off your leash and you just ran right into the fucking ocean even though you don't know how to swim. So, this is me dragging you back to shore. We're going to teach you how to swim, Angel. Slowly. I'm doing this for your own good."

   I let out a snort, and he leaned closer so that we were almost nose to nose. I could feel his breath on my cheeks, his eyes peering into mine. He was so close that I could see each lash as his lids fluttered slightly, each crease in his lips. "I am just dying to know what that little sound was about."

   Pinching my lips together, I tried to lean back, but his hand clamped around the back of my neck, keeping me locked in place.

   "Spit it out, Marie."

   Oh, boy did I ever.

   "I know you like to think that all I did was spend my time _on my knees_ ," I said, recalling his humiliation of me yesterday, "but I didn't. I spent time at the women's shelter. I know an abuser when I see one, and I see you, Negan. You're an abuser."

   His hand tightened on my neck, and my eyes narrowed in triumph that he was proving my point. He must have realized it, too, because he released me, easing himself back into a relaxed position, but I followed him, figuring at the very worst, I'd throw up on him, and I imagined there were several people in the Sanctuary who'd pay money to see that.

   Now, I was in his personal space, and I could see the growing indignation on his face, but I couldn't stop. Maybe it was the newly introduced alcohol in my system. Maybe it was just that this man brought out feelings in me that no one in the entire world ever had before, but I kept going.

   "Do you know how many women have heard those exact same words before they were punched, hit, verbally assaulted? 'I'm doing this for your own good.' 'Look what you made me do.' 'You brought this on yourself.' 'You need to be taught a lesson.' 'I'm doing this because I care about you.' I've heard it all, and seen it all," I said, my words getting more intense. Yes, I was sheltered when it came to myself, but not about what happened outside the rectory.

   "That's not what I meant," he snapped, but I edged closer to him, cutting him off as I held up my fingers, ticking off the other signs.

   "Isolation. You keep women segregated. Control. Everything has to go through you. Temper. Lashing out over inconsequential things. Jealousy. All you, man."

   I knew I hit a sore spot. His eyes flashed dangerously, and he was again proving my point. But just like that, the anger that had flared up inside me was gone, and I was left with the hurt of having my choices taken away from me.

   "You embarrassed me," I whispered, my eyes filling with tears. "You hurt me on purpose, and you made sure that I could never show my face down there again. I'm no one to you," I reminded him as my lips trembled. "Why do you care who I spend my time with?"

   It dawned on me how close our faces still were, and I sat back abruptly, wiping my eyes.

   "I just do," he replied in a rough voice. "You're my responsibility."

   "I'm-"

   "You are," he said, covering the alcohol back up, brushing his leg against mine. "Whether you like it or not, Father Thomas thought that you should be with me, and I'm not letting you end up like all these other assholes. You may call it abusive, but I call it keeping you safe. Because I know these people better than you."

   "Charlie's not dangerous," I tried again, but he stood up, running a hand down his face as he walked away from me.

   "You need to go lay down," he told me, keeping his back to me as I got to my feet, feeling both defeated and relieved. My stomach was feeling iffy, and I didn't want to push my luck. With time, maybe I could convince him to get to know Charlie.

   "Negan?"

   He didn't turn around, but he also didn't respond, and I spoke anyway.

   "I'm sorry for the things I said to you last night," I mumbled as I stared at the ground. "I wasn't in the best control of myself, and it was really mean."

   I didn't even hear him move, but when I looked up, he was standing in front of me with a smirk.

   "But you're not sorry for what you just said to me earlier?"

   Negan pulled me into a hug, wrapping his arms around me as I stood stiffly, nervously. The only times he'd ever touched me were to force me somewhere, and to wipe the tears from my eyes when Father Thomas lay dying in the infirmary. His arms were strong around my body, though mine hung limply at my sides, my heart thumping oddly.

   "Love makes you weak in this world, now," he said into the top of my hair. "I don't have time for love. It's why I have five wives."

   I couldn't respond, the sound of his heartbeat filling my ear as my face rested on his chest, and the image of his stomach, those black hairs dotting them filled my mind as I wondered what it would be like to feel them on my bare skin, brushing up against me.

   A raging desire to experience it flooded through my body, throwing me completely off kilter. It wasn't like the sweet feelings I had for Charlie. It was primal and consuming me, a full body flush, and I became terrified that he could tell.

   Pushing away from him, I hurried to the door, ignoring his calls, and I rushed to the bathroom to splash some water on my face.

   When I looked into the mirror, I saw that my face was looking peaky, and I stumbled back into my room, telling myself that this was only a reaction to my emotional upheaval and the alcohol, but as I crawled back under the covers, I couldn't erase the image from my mind. Negan on top of me, covering my body with his.

   I managed to fall back asleep, and when I woke up, my headache had dulled from a rock and roll pounding to a dull jazz tune. Figuring that I needed to eat, I went into the lounge, poking around in the fridge, but there was nothing of substance.

   The clock on the wall said it was after twelve, and I debated on whether or not to go down to the cafeteria. I could get Sherry to go down for me, but then I'd have to talk to her about what happened and I didn't want to dissect everything just yet.

   Telling myself that I was an adult, and could therefore handle anything that may or may not happen down there, I plucked up my courage and headed down. Thankfully, most of the people had already eaten, and I asked the kitchen line for a meal to go, thinking I could take it back upstairs. The sour-faced lady that was ladling out the food told me no, and I'm not proud of it, but I fished out my necklace, figuring that I'd rather make her slightly uncomfortable. Compared to what I would feel if I saw Charlie, it was nothing.

   Her face froze as I tucked it back under my shirt.

   "I don't want any extra, ma'am," I explained. "I just want to be able to take it upstairs."

   She quickly put some in a styrofoam container that she retrieved from the back of the kitchen, and I thanked her with a smile.

   Hunching over, I started for the hallway, but I was stopped by a hand on my shoulder. I turned around to see that it was Charlie, and my face fell as I saw how hurt he looked.

   "Can I talk to you for a minute?" he asked, motioning towards the outside door, and I nodded mutely, following behind him as he led me out to the back of the building, my food clutched against my chest.

   He stopped at the spot I sat on last night. Our little spot, but before he could talk, I rushed to apologize.

   "I'm so sorry I didn't tell you who I was, Charlie," I said, shaking my head as I felt my eyes well up. "It was so unfair to you, I know. I just...liked that you liked spending time with me, and I didn't know that Negan would get so upset."

   He held up his hands to interrupt me, and I shut my mouth. He could yell at me, curse me out, and I was going to have to take it. I deserved it.

   "You're a nun?"

   I let out a deep breath as I sunk down to the ground, setting my food aside. He sat down next to me, but neither of us looked at each other.

   "I was. I'm not anymore."

   I owed him the truth, and I told him. From my first days in the church all the way up until the day I met him. It was hard, and it was hurting me to admit how different our lives had been, but he deserved the truth. He deserved to know why Negan was so overprotective of me.

   When I was done, he lightly pounded his hand on his knee, seemingly frustrated.

   "You could've told me all of this from the beginning. Didn't you trust me?"

   "I did," I insisted. "I wanted to be me. A me that wasn't tied to something that I don't have anymore."

   Charlie didn't respond, and we sat there facing the fence for a few minutes until I figured that he had nothing else to say, and I went to get to my feet until he stopped me, grabbing me by the hand.

   "Negan came to see me this morning."

   "What?"

   "He offered me two choices," Charlie informed me, his thumb rubbing back and forth over the top of my hand as I started to panic. "He said I could continue to see you, or he would promote me to a Savior. He told me I could have a room of my own and a lot more points. I'd be able to go out on runs."

   I didn't even have it in me to get upset at the moment. Of course, he did. He'd put Charlie in a difficult position, and I smiled sadly.

   "You should take the deal," I told him.

   "I like you, Marie, and I want to know if we move forward together-"

   I cut him off with a kiss, pulling him close to me and wrapping my arms around his neck. I drank it in, the last time we'd ever do it, and I committed it to memory before pulling away and placing my hands on his cheeks.

   "Take the deal," I whispered, tilting my forehead so that it was resting on his chin. "You deserve a place of your own, and you shouldn't have to work so hard just to get points. I want you to take it."

   "But-"

   I let go of him, getting up quickly and snatching my food off of the ground.

   "Take care of yourself, Charlie."

   Taking off at a run, I rounded the building and shot through the cafeteria, trying to make it back upstairs before I lost it. I would've made it if I hadn't run into Negan who was coming down the steps as I was sprinting up.

   "Hey, hold on," he said, taking me by the arms. "I want to talk to you."

   "Don't bother," I replied, shaking myself free. "I know my place now, thanks. I'm well aware that I'll never be worth more than a bed and a job."

   "Angel, I gave him a chance to decide-"

   "You didn't have to, Negan. I made the decision for him."

   I took off again, leaving him standing there as I burst through the door, heading straight to Sherry's room. When she saw the look on my face, she pulled me into her arms, letting me cry as she rocked me, my food and aching head forgotten while my heart lay shredded in my chest.


	14. An Audience With His Holiness

  
   There were only two people on the top floor that were even remotely happy over the next month, and one of them definitely wasn't me.

    Negan and Carolyn spend every night together, the sounds of their lovemaking echoing throughout the hallway, usually sending me into my room to avoid the unwanted images that flowed through my mind.

   Alicia and Phoebe were indifferent. There was no other word for it. I didn't think they despised Negan, but they were perfectly content to just live there, not having to sleep with him or perform anything more than perfunctory courtesies in the evenings when he made his obligatory appearance in the lounge. Neither one seemed to care that he hadn't requested their 'services' since before I arrived. They would just get up and leave after he sauntered off with Carolyn, who always seemed to treat it like a victory. But no one was playing the game with her, and I wasn't sure she was smart enough to know that.

   When Negan wasn't there, she always took off, and no one knew where she went. If she wasn't in the lounge, she was at some unknown spot, but she always made sure to be back before he arrived. Conveniently in the nick of time, and she'd be dressed and ready in her skimpiest outfit, all lush lips and greedy smiles, ready to flatter him at the first opportunity.

   Sherry spent her time drinking, and if she wasn't hanging out with me, she would go outside to smoke. I suspected that she was also seeing Dwight, but I don't think they were sleeping together. She was much too morose when she'd reappear, her hand picking at the wedding ring that Negan made his wives wear. I tried to ask her once, but she shut me down, telling me that the less I knew right now, the better. Instead, we'd go over what I'd learned for the day, socking away the information in case it afforded us some additional intel as to how to get away.

   Delivery days, vague descriptions of the communities, and the supply stock for the Sanctuary. I had access to it all when I'd record information at the lieutenant meetings. We were discreetly keeping our own notes, all of which were hidden in Sherry's room. Negan never went in there, since he and Sherry weren't sleeping together, either. In fact, he barely even acknowledged her when they were in the lounge or otherwise, which led me to wonder why he even kept her around. Her loathing of him as obvious to anyone, and I didn't know if it was just male pride or some other intangible that necessitated it, but I tried my best not to pry.

   I was still in mourning for the life I could've had, and I tried to avoid seeing Charlie at all costs. We'd had a brief, painfully abbreviated conversation the day after I told him to take Negan's deal. He'd been hurt, and he wanted to know why I didn't want to give us a chance. I'd brushed him off kindly, explaining that I couldn't live with myself if he was still down in the general population scraping by while I lived a comfortable life.

   "We just met," I said, biting the inside of my cheek so hard that I could taste blood. "It's not enough of a reason for you to take a chance, and I want you to have every advantage that you can here. Maybe someday, he'll change his mind and..."

   As sweet as he was, he only nodded before turning and walking away, leaving me standing there feeling like I was the worst person in the world. He didn't know what I'd given up, and I didn't want him to.

   So, I spent my days working, avoiding as much conversation with Negan as possible, and my nights either reading or hanging out with Sherry. At first, he'd tried to force me to talk. About anything. But I was the silent sister now, keeping to my Negan-related vow of silence and only discussing Sanctuary related queries, angering him so much that he'd slammed his bat into the wall one day, putting a huge hole in his room.

   "Are you fucking kidding me with this shit?" he shouted, yanking the bat out of the plaster as I huddled in my chair. Was it any wonder that I saw him in such a negative manner? My only experience of him was as a domineering jerk. Any semblance of kindness or tenderness was so infrequent that it was almost like an aberration or mistake, quickly corrected and glossed over.

   "You know what? You can get the fuck out of my office, and don't bother coming back until you can treat me like a human being and not like I’m fucking Hitler," he said, sending me to my feet and right out the door. The irony was not lost on me, but it went right over his giant, fat head. "Can't even fucking hold a normal goddamned conversation," he muttered under his breath as I passed him.

   We ended up not seeing each other for five days, and I had to admit that it was glorious. Me, the one who always apologized when someone else would bump into me or cut me off, followed his orders to the letter and kept away from him. I had nothing to say to him, so I wasn't going to make myself. Why did I have to keep the peace? Just because I was so nice? And where did being a good person get me? Right down in hell with everyone else, that's where.

   Now, I'm not saying I was going to start dropping f-bombs everywhere and just generally start sinning for the heck of it, that wasn't me for sure, but I could learn to hold my ground. I could find that inner strength that had gotten me through most of my life, and use it to my advantage here.

   It ended up being Negan that broke the stalemate, opening up my door on the sixth morning after he sent me away.

   "We have a meeting in ten minutes," he said shortly as I climbed out of bed, inclining my head as I grabbed my clothes to go change. And that was that. He hadn't tried to make small talk with me since, and I didn't have to be someone I wasn't just to placate him. The only thing he would do was eyeball me every night when he came into the lounge to collect Carolyn, and I'd give him a polite nod. It was a small but important victory for me, and I clung to it.

   The one thing I couldn't avoid were my occasional lustful thoughts about him. They'd pop up randomly, like when he'd stretch his long body, or a certain way he'd tilt his head when he was talking, sometimes running his tongue over his lips, or his voice dropping to a deeper register, and I'd feel the heat flood through my system. I tried to rationalize it as a physical response that had been awakened in me by Charlie. It's what I told myself, anyway.

   Then there was Amber. There wasn't a classification for the misery she was currently living in. The herbs and teas that I'd gotten for her hadn't helped, and it appeared that she was definitely pregnant. To date, she'd refused to go to see the doctor, and she hadn't even taken a test, but she was exhibiting a few of the signs. Nausea, fatigue, all of it was starting to come out over the last few weeks, and she seemed to retreat further into a shell.

   I don't know if she thought that if she didn't acknowledge it that it wasn't happening, but I was worried for her. Negan was going to figure it out soon, and I had no idea how he was going to respond. According to Amber, there was no way he was the father since the timeline didn't match up with her last tryst with him. It was definitely her ex-boyfriend's, and he didn't know either.

   She was carrying a terrible burden alone, and no matter what Sherry did to try to convince her to see Dr. Carson, she adamantly refused.

   "He'll kill Mark," she cried, pacing around the room. "If I'm lucky, I'll only have to watch as he murders the man I love. He might even kill me, too."

   It was an endless cycle of begging and pleading, getting nowhere with her, and I prayed for some sort of way out. But even I knew that this probably wouldn't end well.

   Now late spring, I woke up on a beautiful sunny day feeling somewhat good. Negan had been gone for over two days, leaving everyone but Carolyn in peace, and I thought briefly about trying to find Simon to see when I could start training. I'd been told on my arrival that I'd be taught how to shoot and defend myself just in case, and I knew that I had to be prepared before we made our escape. We couldn't just take off half-cocked because it would end up getting us killed or recaptured, which seemed a much worse option.

   Carrying my tennis shoes out into the hall, I leaned up against the big, wood armoire that stood right outside my door. I had one shoe on when the large piece began to slide, sending me almost down on my backside on the floor. When I regained my footing, I turned around to reposition it, but something caught my eye.

   There was a door behind it, hidden away. The frame had been painted over, and with a flicker of excitement, I pushed it further away, revealing the rest of the secret entrance.

   The whole entire thing had been painted the same color as the wall, even the knob, and I felt a childish sense of enthusiasm as I knocked on Sherry's door, rousing her from sleep.

   "What's wrong?"

  "Did you know there was a door behind the armoire?" I asked, hopping up and down with a grin. It must have been infectious, because she smiled, following me back down the hall.

   "How did you find this?"

   "My butt did," I chuckled. "I was leaning against it to put my shoes on, and it slid on the hardwood."

   She turned the knob, but it was locked, and I felt a deep sense of disappointment. It only seemed to make her more determined, and she went right into her room, coming back with something hidden in her hand.

   "Keep an eye out," she said in a low voice before walking to Negan's door with stealthy steps. A quick flick of her wrist, and she slipped inside his room as I let out a snicker of admiration.

   Less than a minute later and Sherry was back with a huge set of keys and a flashlight, beginning the laborious process of trying to see if we could unlock the door.

   After ten minutes and countless attempts, a small brass key slid in completely and we heard a loud click. She and I yanked on the door, pulling it free with a grunt, and a cloud of dust came blowing out along with musty, cool air. I clicked on the flashlight, shining it around cautiously, and we spied a set of metal steps that were covered in about an inch of dirt.

   "Shit, it must go to the roof," Sherry exclaimed, taking the lead. She was barefoot, but she didn't seem to care. No one else was awake, and I slid the armoire back as far as I could, leaving the door open just a tiny bit. The steps seemed solid, so we climbed up slowly, following the turns as it led us up at least two more flights.

   When we got to the top, it was another fishing expedition as we tried the same keys, unlocking it after significantly less wasted time. This door was much tougher to get open, and we had to slam our shoulders against it before it wrenched apart, sending us nearly down to the ground, suddenly engulfed by bright light and fresh air.

   Laughing, we stepped out carefully, making sure it was solid before exploring the as yet unused area. To say the view was spectacular was an understatement. The panorama stretched out endlessly, with the streets that sat beyond the entrance easily visible. The rest of the Sanctuary was surrounded by fields and woods, and it was heavenly.

   For a long time, I just stood at the edge, looking out on the yellow fields and bright green leaves, letting the wind blow through my hair until Sherry tickled me on my side, sending me about five feet off the ground.

   "Come on," she said, pulling me by the arm. "Negan is gone until tonight, so this is going to be our new hangout for the day and we need to get some stuff."

   Why she could always talk me into things, I didn't know, but one hour later, we were laying on the roof in bathing suits, sunning ourselves with drinks and snacks, a cd player cranking out pop tunes. I'd felt self-conscious in the green bikini that I was wearing, since there obviously wasn't much of a selection to choose from, but Sherry told me over and over how great I looked.

   "I don't understand why you don't see yourself the way the rest of us see you," she told me patiently as she slicked my hair up in a ponytail.

   "Because I'm not glamorous like you, or built like Carolyn," I mumbled, my hands fluttering so much at the bathing suit top that she flicked them away in annoyance.

   "Okay, first, I'd hardly call myself glamorous," she muttered, "and secondly, no one on Earth is built like Carolyn, and that's a good thing. She may have hips and big tits, but there's just as much fat in her brain as in her curves."

   It was mean, but I couldn't help laughing.

   "Besides, her really shitty personality makes her hideous, and if Negan can't see that, he's even dumber than she is."

   Alicia and Phoebe hadn't even given us a second glance when we headed towards the door, but Amber came out of her room, looking happy for once. We tried to get her to come up with us, but she declined, insisting that she just wanted to hang out in her room for the day. Since it was the first time she'd looked somewhat like herself, Sherry didn't push her, but told her to feel free to join us if she changed her mind.

   This was the first time I felt centered and relaxed since I'd been brought here, and it was like the sun was recharging my soul, rejuvenating my body. I'd never been one to lay out, but I could see why so many people enjoyed it.

   I had just turned over from my stomach to my back when a shadow crossed over my face, prompting me to open my eyes. I was sorry I did when I saw that it was Negan.

   My heart started to beat unsteadily as I went to sit up, but he held up his hand, though I couldn't see his face. Explicitly aware of how much of my body was exposed, I kept myself propped up on my elbows and turned my head away from him towards Sherry, who was watching him lazily.

   "Do you mind? We're trying to enjoy ourselves," she said, completely unbothered that we'd found this place without his permission.

   "How the fuck did you get up here?" he snapped, and she shrugged her shoulders.

   "Your keys."

   I was nearly beside myself at this point, but she was completely nonchalant.

   "You went into my goddamned room without me being there?"

   He reminded me of a bomb, ready to explode at any moment.

    "You left it unlocked, and we were curious about where the door went," she lied, turning her head to face forward and shutting her eyes, adjusting her arms so that all of her skin was getting sun.

   "Is that true, Marie?" he asked in an eerily calm voice.

   I have to give Sherry credit. She either just didn't care at this point or she was completely sure I'd back her up, because she never even flinched, so I tried to mimic her confidence.

   "Yes. Sorry, we didn't think you'd mind if we came up here."

   He pinched the bridge of his nose before balling his hand up into a fist, letting out a deep breath as I watched him with what I hoped was a serene expression.

   "Do not _ever_ go into my room again without my express fucking permission or I won't be responsible for what I do."

   "Yeah, yeah," Sherry drawled, waving him off with a smirk. "We're very afraid of you, Negan. Don't worry. Now, move, because you're blocking our light and Marie doesn't want to get an uneven tan."

   That brought his gaze back down to me, and I couldn't tell what was going through his head at the moment or see his face since the sun was behind him, but he did back up slightly. I lowered the top half of my body onto my towel before he cleared his throat loudly.

   "You're having dinner with me tonight," he announced gruffly as I blinked up at him. "We'll discuss your new schedule."

   Without waiting for my response, he turned on his heel, stomping towards the door and disappearing into the dark.

   Once she was sure he was gone, Sherry let out the loudest shrieking laugh I'd ever heard, and I turned onto my side to face her, thinking she'd lost her mind.

   "None of this is funny, Sherry," I hissed, running my hand along my hip, my nerves starting to recover from our interaction from him.

   "I find it hysterical," she said between loud guffaws. "He had the _biggest_ hard-on, looking at you. Didn't you see it?"

   "No," I replied, flushing red from head to toe. "And, no he didn't. He was probably looking at you."

   "Trust me, Marie, that was all about you. I want to die right now thinking about him running his pathetic routine on you tonight."

   I sat up, feeling abruptly sick. It was one thing for me to have occasional thoughts about that jerk, but it was another thing entirely if he was going to try to seduce me.

   "I can't have dinner with him," I said, getting to my feet, and she scrambled up after me, taking my arm firmly.

   "You're going to be fine," she assured me, even though she was still smiling. "Do you have any intention of sleeping with him tonight?"

   "Of course not," I said angrily, shooting her a dirty look.

   "Then it doesn't matter. He'd never force himself on you. He's just going to make an ass of himself, that's all."

   She made me lay back down, trying to calm me down for the next hour, coaching me on what to expect and how to respond.

   By the time we headed down so that I could get ready, I was physically shaking, her words echoing in my head.

  _"He had the biggest hard-on, looking at you."_

   It was both flattering and repulsive. That was Negan in a nutshell.


	15. Personal Sacrifice

   My newly shiny hot pink toenails had my full attention as I stood outside Negan's room, collecting my thoughts and preparing myself for whatever lay behind his door.

  Sherry's barrage of cheesy lines and potential moves that he'd put on me were bouncing around in my brain, and I prayed that he would just keep this professional and nice. It didn't help that I'd had to pass by the lounge where Carolyn was pacing around, sure that something was up when Negan told the women that he'd be in later and didn't want to be disturbed.

   She saw that I was dressed nicely, and her eyes had narrowed suspiciously when I walked towards his room, and I knew that she was peeking out of the lounge at this very moment, her stare burning into my back.

   Sherry had teasingly told me that I'd looked like the nun version of Alice in Wonderland, and I smoothed my skirt, buying more time. She'd found me a swingy white dress with spaghetti straps and a black cardigan, my hair held back by a shiny headband and cute black sandals. My outfit was probably better suited for a night out at the shore, I imagined in my mind, a casual meal at a nice seafood restaurant rather than an uncomfortable dinner with a man that I was physically attracted to at best, and borderline terrified of at worst.

   Raising my hand, I knocked lightly and he called out for me to come in. When I stepped inside, I looked around with interest at the newly rearranged room.

   Negan's desk now sat in the corner and one of the little sofas was facing it along the opposite wall, his bookcase sandwiched in between. Directly in the middle of the room was a shiny new dining room table and four chairs. The other couch was placed to the left along with a new hutch that housed a very expensive looking sound system and a plethora of CDs.

   As for the man himself, he was already seated at the table wearing his usual t-shirt, two plates of food already waiting. While I was looking around the room, he had been staring at me, so when I locked eyes with him, he seemed startled, recovering quickly as he pointed me to my chair.

   I sat down, placing the red cloth napkin in my lap, giving him a small smile which he didn't return. Okay, then.

   "Thanks for dinner," I said politely, and he nodded, pouring himself a glass of wine. Wordlessly, he offered me some, but I declined, having no interest in drinking again anytime soon. "Water's fine."

   He started eating, and I followed suit, relieved and confused by his subdued tone. Deciding to make the best of it, I ate in peace, enjoying the vegetable lasagna and contemplating what the people downstairs were having, and I felt bad once again. Maybe I should be doing more, offering to work in the kitchen or help wash clothes.

   His fingers drummed out an annoying rhythm on the table as he ate, and I could feel my shoulders tense up.

   "Something wrong?"

   His voice was testy, and I glanced up from my plate to see him scowling, the muscles along his shoulders defined from his own tension. Maybe he was still mad about the roof thing.

   "Nothing. I just thought we'd be talking about my new schedule. You said that's why we were having dinner."

   "We'll discuss it after."

   "Sure," I replied, turning my attention back to my food, increasing my pace. When the last bite was gone, I laid down my fork and sat back, waiting for him to finish. He'd had a serving twice the size of mine, and he was eating much slower, and I had the sneaking suspicion that he was doing it on purpose.

   I was just about to crack, to open my mouth to ask him why he was doing this when there was a knock at the door. Negan shouted in my ear for them to enter, and I felt my face break into a smile when I saw that it was Simon.

   "Hey, kid," he said, greeting me first, and I stood up, giving him a quick hug. "You're looking adorable," he smiled, running his finger across my headband. "I see you got some sun. Those freckles are poppin'."

   "It's good to see you," I replied, taking my seat again. "How was your trip?"

   Negan let out a huffing breath, and I figured it was because I didn't ask him, and Simon shifted his stance slightly, his features getting serious again.

   "Good, kid. It was real good."

   "Marie, go over and make yourself comfortable," Negan said shortly as he got to his feet. "Simon and I have a few things to discuss."

   Uh oh, I was Marie now. Maybe I was in trouble, and I got up quickly, sidling over to the sound system as Simon took my place. They spoke in low voices as I tuned them out, my eyes wandering to the enormous volume of music that was now at his fingertips, and I felt a different kind of longing go through me. I was so immersed in the different titles that I didn't even hear Simon leave, startling only when I heard Negan's voice right behind my ear.

   "See anything you like?"

   His voice as low and husky now, quite the change from his earlier, cooler tones.

   "Lots," I sighed, running my index finger over a row that was at my eye level, the names jumping out at me.

   "I wouldn't take you for a music lover," he mused, "unless it was church hymns or some shit."

   "I wasn't born in a convent," I reminded him with a little edge to my voice. "Music is for everyone. It's universal."

   "Meaning?"

   "It speaks to you," I murmured, pulling out an old Beatles cd. “It can tell you as much or as little as you want it to. Music can reveal your deepest thoughts and desires. Ones you might not even be able to express to yourself."

   "So, pick one out," he said into my ear, sending an unwitting shiver down my spine. "Express yourself."

   I was proud that my arm was steady when I automatically reached for the one I wanted, opening it and handing him the disc as he popped it in without looking at it.

   The blazing opening of Immigrant Song came belting out and his eyebrows rose as I took a seat at the end of the couch. He turned the volume up to a higher level than I expected, retrieving his wine and plopping down at the opposite end.

   "Huh," he said, taking a sip as I crossed my legs. "I would've pegged you as a boy band kind of girl."

   "Of course you would," I replied, unable to keep from smiling. "But I can find something I like in pretty much every genre, and this is what I grew up listening to. My mom was a child of the sixties, and if you didn't like classic rock, you didn't listen to anything."

   "I never would've pictured it," Negan answered, his eyes unfocusing slightly as he tried, I assume.

    "It's so sad that there's not going to be any more of this," I said regretfully. "No more new music, no more art, no movies. The world is poorer for it."

   Shaking his head, he set his glass down before getting down to business. I felt strangely comfortable at the moment while also aware deep down that it could change on a dime.

   "It's time to start your training," he told me, and I sat up just a bit straighter. "You need to know how to protect yourself. There are always people out there who will want to fight us, and I try to keep this place hidden and well-armed, but should something ever happen, you need to know how to shoot a gun."

   "Okay," I said, trying not to look too eager. With training, we were one step closer to freedom, Sherry and I.

   "Simon has offered to oversee your training, and I'll let him," he grudgingly replied, and I didn't know why that seemed to be a sore spot with him. "He's very fond of you for some reason."

   He saw the look on my face, and he amended his words.

   "I didn't mean that he had no reason to be fond...of you.  He's weirdly protective over you in a way that he's never been over any of my actual wives that I know of."

   "I remind him of his daughter," I admitted, and he nodded, a speck of relief crossing his face.

   I was now going to be doing the numbers during the morning hours, and as long as Simon was at the Sanctuary, I'd be working with him in the afternoons after lunch. Negan instructed me that I was to pay strict attention to every word and not attempt too much too soon.

   "You're going to have to kill walkers, Marie. That part is not up for negotiation. I know you have a 'right to life' policy, but it's either them or you. If you refuse, if you hesitate, I'll pull you back out and you won't get another chance for a long time. Do you hear me?"

   "Yes."

   It didn't sound as certain and as confident as I wanted it to be, but I knew he was right. Once Sherry and I were out and on our own, there wouldn't be anyone else to protect us. I'd have to do it.   

   The music died out, and when the next song started, I let out a breathy sigh, goosebumps forming over every inch of my skin, a Pavlovian response to this particular song.

   Negan noticed, and he leaned forward with a glint in his eye, the first time he'd acted like his usual self since I'd come in.

   "What's going on here?" he questioned, leaning forward as he gestured at me.

   "Nothing," I said, rubbing my arms rapidly, but he wouldn't let it drop.

   "Something's happening in that busy little brain of yours, and you're not getting out of here until you tell me."

   A bubbling of heat and emotion made it's way through my core as I shook my head.

  "You'll think it's juvenile and silly."

   "Try me."

   I took a deep breath, but I couldn't speak, finding the possibilities of what would come out of his mouth too mortifying.

   "Angel, please," he pleaded, his voice as rough as sandpaper, making the chills battle with the heat in my system. "You haven't given me anything for over a month. Tell me."

   "This song," I exhaled after a long minute, looking up at the ceiling, "it's always brought out a certain response in me. It's like the perfect makeout song, you know? Not sex, per se. Just, being spread out on a couch in the dark, with only a few candles lit."

   "Why?"

   One word. One low, rumbling word, and I kept my gaze skyward.

   "It's..." I struggled to explain. "Listen to the pain and longing in his voice. The begging and pleading of the guitar chords. It's everything. It touches me in a way that's almost animalistic, I guess."

   At that moment, I knew that I'd have to leave staring up at the ceiling, feeling my way out. There was no reason I should've told him that, and I couldn't possibly look him in the eyes again. But I didn't get that choice, because I felt his hand graze my jaw, gently directing my face towards him.

   He was breathing heavily as the song continued, the whining chords and pleading wails drowning out everything else. His face was nearly touching mine, and I let out a shaky breath.

  "Let me kiss you, Angel," he murmured, and if I tilted my head even a centimeter, our lips would touch. They were tingling, throbbing as I felt them part slightly. Close. So close, with his eyes burning a hole in mine.

   "No," I managed to whisper, but it didn't even phase him.

   "You want me," he insisted, the fire inside his words making me squirm internally and very nearly in the physical sense. "I can feel it. Don't you think I can tell? Your body is showing me just how much you want me right now."

   I finally closed my eyes, breaking his hold on me.

   "I can't control what my body does," I replied, willing myself back into command. "But I can control my mind."

   Almost instantly, there was a chilly separation between us, and he took a deep breath of his own, his face returning to a cold expression.

   "Just go," he ordered me. "I'll be in the lounge in a few minutes."

   I stood up unsteadily, walking a few steps towards the door before turning around.

   "That's why I said no. Because I'm replaceable to you," I smiled wistfully. "You'll just move on to the next girl to get what you want. None of this means anything to you."

   He knew it, and so did I, and that's why he let me go without an argument. Swallowing down my feelings, I left his room, leaning against the wall to collect myself before walking into the lounge.

   The other women were already in there, and I could feel Sherry watching me like a hawk. She wasn't the only one as Carolyn arranged herself expectantly, waiting for Negan to arrive to collect her.

   Phoebe and Alicia were talking amongst themselves, and Amber was sitting on the furthest couch, looking like an angel herself. Her hair was shining and she was in full makeup, her black dress sparkling with beads. She held out both hands to me, and I walked over to her, letting her pull me down into a hug. She placed a soft kiss on my cheek before sitting back.

   "Are you okay?" I asked, and she smiled serenely.

   "I am."

   I wanted to ask her what brought on the attitude change, but I heard Negan approaching, so I took a seat next to Sherry who was watching Amber closely. Sherry took my hand, squeezing it as he stalked into the room, looking irritated and unhappy. He never even looked at me, and when Carolyn went to get up, he waved her off, leaving her stunned.

   "You all have the night off," he announced, then giving me a pointed glance like he was trying to prove something to me.

   "I don't need anything from you anymore," Amber said, causing us all to look at her as she smiled up at Negan.

   "What?"

   Her hands went behind her back, and she produced a gun, causing all of the other women in the room to gasp as I sat their stupidly, not understanding what was happening.

   "Amber," Negan said in a warning tone, his hands going up automatically, thinking she was going to start shooting at him. But that wasn't what happened.

   "You can't hurt me ever again," she said before sticking the gun in her mouth and pulling the trigger, both a loud pop and the back of her head filling the air.


	16. A Forgivable Sin?

  
   I could hear the screams around me. I could see the terror and shock on everyone's face. Amber's slumped body and Negan kneeling in front of her in a frozen state. Even the blood and brain matter that was spread all along the wall in a gruesome spray that looked like some sort of demented firework. Her life exploding across the white paint in one final act of rebellion, engulfing the air in a coppery stench.

   But I couldn't physically react. I couldn't come up with the same response as everyone else. It was like it was locked away in a box, shoved off onto a shelf to pore over and examine later.

   Instead, I was calm, and I knew somehow that it was supposed to be that way. God had spared me for the moment because of who I was, and what I did. I was meant to help them through this, to minister to them in this awful experience.

   I felt myself rising from the couch, pulling Sherry to her feet and steering her towards the door as she cried and shook. Past the table, through the door, and straight to her room where I set her on the bed.

   "Stay here," I told her in a steady voice, and she stared at me in a stupor. I shut her door before heading back, grabbing Alicia and Phoebe, doing the same with them.

   Carolyn, I physically lifted up, though she shook me off and headed alone to her room, leaving me, Negan and Amber alone in the room. Though I was steady, I couldn't look at her body, not yet. Instead, I retraced my steps to her room, gasping when I opened the door.

   Her bed had been stripped, and all of her clothes were folded neatly on the mattress along with her sheets and blankets. She'd spent the day in her room, and now I understood why. She'd been preparing for this, maybe thinking she was sparing Sherry and the others from having to pack up her things, and I felt a distant ache in my heart.

   Sitting on top of her pillows were a stack of envelopes, and I reached for them unthinkingly, thumbing through them. There was a name written on each of them. Sherry, Alicia, Phoebe, Negan and me. There was one for each of us.

   In a daze, I set them on the dresser, carrying her pink blanket back into the lounge where Negan was still kneeling on the floor in front of her.

   So as not to startle him, I laid my hand softly on his shoulder, and he wheeled around with his fist raised until he realized it was me.

   Looking around quickly, he stood up.

   "Where is everyone else?" he asked in an empty voice.

   "They're all in their rooms," I said, unfolding the blanket before reaching out with tentative hands to smooth Amber's hair away from her face. It was an image that would haunt me for the rest of my life, her eyes slightly crossed as she stared up, seeing nothing. Maybe seeing everything now.

   It wasn't that I was unaffected. It was just like it was there in the back of my mind, waiting for me at a later date, allowing me to do what the others couldn't. I'd spent years tending to those who were hurting, in a pain that they couldn't deal with alone, and it was instinctual to try to take it away, to mute it for them so that they had some comfort.

   I shut her eyelids and laid the blanket over her, covering her from view as Negan took off at a run out of the room. He was back a few seconds later, speaking into his radio, and I saw the change in his demeanor. He was Negan times ten, a stiff, angry volcano ready to erupt at any moment.

   "I need a group of men up here, now," he ordered, pacing around the room before looking at me like he'd never seen me before.

   "You should have Dr. Carson come up to check on your wives," I said in a low voice. "They'll probably need to be sedated."

   We stared at each other for a few moments before he changed the channel, calling for the doctor who said he'd be right up.

   As I went to pass him, he grabbed me by the arm, but I detached myself gently.

   "I'm fine," I assured him before turning away, going back to Amber's room to retrieve the letters. Pulling mine from the group, I hid it under my pillow before going to see Sherry.

   She was still on the bed, sobbing into her hands as I climbed on next to her, wrapping my arms around her.

   "Oh God," she moaned, her face buried in my neck. They were the only words she could get out, and she said them over and over as I rocked her, letting her just be. There was nothing I could say at the moment that would make her feel any better, but I was there.

   I wasn't sure how long it took, but Dr.Carson came in with a cautious demeanor, setting his black bag on the floor as I laid Sherry down on the bed. She was still crying, but she didn't resist as the doctor quickly checked her vitals.

   "Sherry, Dr. Carson is going to give you something to help you sleep," I said as she looked at me dully. "You need to get some rest, and I'll come check on you in the morning, okay?"

   She nodded once, and he took out two small pills as I went to get her some water. I didn't want to go back into the lounge, but that was where the glasses were, and when I slipped in, I saw that there were at least a half a dozen men in there, listening to Negan bark out orders.

   Simon made eye contact with me, trying to ascertain whether or not I was on the verge of a breakdown, but I just nodded at him once before getting four glasses and filling them with water and carrying them back with me.

   Sherry took it from me without looking at me and swallowed the pills before laying on her side, facing the wall. Hopefully, she would be out in a few minutes, and I took the rest of the glasses with me, showing Dr. Carson to the next room.

   Phoebe wasn't in much better shape, curled up on her bed with tears running down her face. She accepted the pills without a second thought, downing them and holding my hand for a while as I murmured encouraging words. I'm not even sure what I said, they just came out on their own.

   Alicia was nearly catatonic, her face frozen in fright and deathly pale. Dr. Carson only gave her a half dose due to her blood pressure, and he monitored her for several minutes until she drifted off to sleep. Once she was out, I set her envelope on her nightstand so that she could look at it once she was awake.

   Carolyn was the last one we visited, but she refused to be seen, shouting through the door that she was fine and to leave her the fuck alone.

   "What can I do for you, Marie?" he asked kindly as he took my hand.

   "I'll be fine for tonight," I assured him. "I'll probably stop in to see you tomorrow."

   "Marie, you don't have to try to be strong right now," he advised me, but I gave his hand a quick squeeze.

   "I'm not trying to, believe me. It's out of my hands right now. I know it's hard to understand, but I'm okay for the time being."

   I had to actually walk him to the stairs before he finally took the hint, but he made me promise him that I would let him check me over first thing in the morning. To get him to leave, I agreed, and once the door closed, I went back to check on Phoebe. She was asleep, so I left her envelope before doing the same with Sherry.

   Part of me wanted to just crawl into bed with her and stay there, but there was one more person I felt the compulsion to check on whether I liked it or not. He was just as deserving of my sympathy as everyone else.

   Carolyn's door was open as I passed by, and I stopped to see if she needed anything, but she ignored me. I really couldn't conceive how she was still such a witch given what we all just experienced, but what could I do? Maybe her heart was black through and through.

   It took me a few minutes to work up the nerve to knock on his door, but I rapped on it, waiting for a response. None came and I tried again. He still didn't answer, so I opened the door cautiously to see if he was even in there.

   Negan was sitting at his desk with a bottle of alcohol in front of him and a glass. His shoulders were slumped and his head was down, his fingers running absently over a gun.

    _The_ gun, and I had a sinking suspicion that it was his, a wave of sickness pulsing through me as I realized that we left his door open when Sherry got his keys. Amber must've found it.

   I shut the door behind me with a click, and he glanced up, watching me with glazed eyes. Everything I thought I could say had evaporated in the short time we stared at each other, and I walked over to his music, searching for one, finding it after a fraught moment. Something deep down inside me told me, whispered to me that he needed this.

   Putting it in the player, I lowered the volume before approaching him as he continued to study me with a blank expression. I held out my hand, and he glanced down at it with a hint of confusion until he finally took it, getting to his feet.

   He didn't need words of comfort and reassurance from me, I knew that instinctively, and I led him towards the couch, dropping his hand as I sat on the edge, placing one of the pillows in my lap, patting it softly.

   "How are you so normal right now?" he asked in a strangled voice, and I shook my head.

   "I'm not."

   I patted it again, and he sat down heavily, turning onto his back and laying his head in my lap, staring up at me as he stretched his legs out.

   Tentatively, I ran my fingers through his hair, allowing something to relax in him, and he let out a deep breath, reaching for my other hand and laying it across his chest, threading his fingers through mine. There was nothing sexual or romantic about it, it was just for comfort, and I continued to comb through his hair as his eyes moved from my face to the ceiling.

   We sat there in silence for several minutes, the mellow strains of the music filling the room until the door opened and Carolyn came stalking in. She'd fixed her makeup and her hair, changing into a silky robe, and she stood there with her hands on her hips, giving me a cool look.

   "You can go," she informed me, her eyes darting from my arm on his chest to my hand on his head. "I'll take care of my husband."

   Negan opened his mouth, but I beat him to the punch.

   "I may be wrong, but I don't report to you," I said respectfully. "Negan is my boss, and if he wants me to leave, all he has to do is say so and I'll go."

   "He's _my_ husband," she snapped and I moved to drop his hand, but he tightened his grip, pulling my arm closer to his neck.

   "Yes," he replied. "Yes, I am, but you didn't bother to come see me or even check on anyone else. You were so concerned about me that you took the fucking time to paint your face and change your clothes, right?"

   "I did that for you," she protested, edging forward as she thrust her chest out. "I love you, baby."

   He snorted, and I turned my head, not wanting to be a part of this. I only wanted to help, and now I was stuck between the two of them and their little power play.

   "Oh, I'm sure you do," he said sarcastically, lifting his head slightly and jerking it towards the door. "I told you before about coming into my room without my permission. When I want to fuck, I'll come to you, Carolyn. But don't play this catty little jealousy game. Not tonight. Act like you have a fucking soul for once, and get the fucking fuck out of my room. Now."

   "So the nun means more to you than me? The one who's been there for you for months?"

   He shot off of the couch, letting me go and I sat there with my mouth hanging open as he rounded on her, sending her back several feet.

   "If you don't shut your mouth and get the fuck out, I'll have you outside the walls in ten minutes."

   Carolyn reached for him, but he took her by the wrists, bending down into her face, and I got a chill up my spine. "If you so much as scowl at her from today forward, I'll strip you of everything and haul your ass down to the basement. You'll be right back where you started, mopping up floors and scrubbing shit-filled toilets. Do I make myself clear?"

   She couldn't cry for Amber, but she could cry for the potential loss of her status, and it disgusted me.

   "Yes," she sniffled, and he let her go.

   She shot for the door, slamming it behind her as Negan stood there for a minute.

   "You can go, too," he said over his shoulder, but I kept my spot. Something in his voice and his posture made me feel achingly badly for him, and he waited for me to get up, finally settling back on the couch when he realized I wasn't going anywhere.

   He took my hand again and I resumed stroking his head, his hair sliding through my hand, the silky black tendrils tickling my skin where it met at the creases of my fingers.

   "I don't understand you," he murmured, and I could hear the frustration as he looked up at me.

   "This is who I am," I answered back, avoiding his gaze. "This is what I'm good at. What I'm here for, I think."

   He shut his eyes, his thumb caressing the side of mine as I kept up my soft strokes, and I could feel him relax, his body melting into my thigh as the music continued to play, eventually starting over since I'd put it on repeat.

   I thought he was finally asleep, but he let out a deep breath, his voice barely audible.

   "You're going to love me someday, Angel."

   I almost said something, a denial maybe, but his fingers loosened, releasing me, and he turned to his side, burying his face into my torso. My heart was beating double time, and I wasn't sure if it was because of what he said or the fact that his face was only inches from my chest, but when I regained control of my faculties, I pulled his envelope from my cardigan pocket and set it on the coffee table.

   Part of me wanted to ease myself out from under him, but another part kept me planted there, my hand resting on his arm as I studied his sleeping features.

   He appeared younger when he slept, the lines on his face smoothing out, making him look more like a good man than a bad one. Maybe he _was_ good at one point, and something happened to harden him, to make him fall from grace, as Father Thomas put it. Why did he want to take over, to be above everyone else as the real Lucifer did?

   I wasn't so sure that he knew the answer himself, and I closed my eyes, leaning my head back.

   I'd fall asleep briefly, but since I was in a sitting position, my head would fall to the side and I'd jerk awake, confused. The cycle would continue throughout the night until the room began to lighten, and I felt him stirring on my lap. Still half asleep, he nuzzled my stomach, tickling me by accident, and I spasmed slightly, waking him up.

   Negan sat up, rubbing his face as I stretched my legs, feeling the blood start to move again.

   "Shit, Angel I'm sorry."

   "It's fine," I yawned, rotating my ankles as he hunched over, rubbing the back of his neck. "You needed the rest. I'm sure you'll have a lot that you need to deal with today."

   When he lifted his head, he saw the envelope with his name on it, and he picked it up as he twisted his head to look at me.

   "Amber left us each one. Well, everyone but Carolyn," I murmured, standing up and twisting my back to work out the knots.

   "So, she had this planned."

   Shrugging my shoulders, I started to leave, but Negan stopped me, pulling me into a hug. He was warm, that almost overheated feeling when you've just woken up, and he smelled a little like alcohol and a lot like the body spray I'd applied the night before. It was disconcerting, and I tried to step back, but he kissed me softly on the forehead.

   "Go get some rest. I'll be by to check on you later."

   "Okay."

   I had one foot out the door when he called me back, and I looked at him with tired eyes.

   "Thank you," he murmured, his features softer than I'd ever seen them awake.

   "You're welcome."

   It was just past dawn, and I carried my exhausted body to my room, stripping off my dress and throwing on a shirt before dropping onto my bed, my eyes closing on their own.

   My sleep was mostly dreamless, save for a few passing images that came and went like soft clouds in the sky. Father Thomas blessing me, my mother dancing with me in our living room, my hair bouncing as she spun me around. Even my childhood friend Chelsea, the two of us swinging at the local park, our feet touching the heavens as we pumped our legs to see who could get the highest.

   I tried to hold onto each one, but they slipped away before I could grab them, keep them in my heart. The last one that appeared before I woke up was Amber, watching me from the chair in my room the first day I arrived, her soft smile as she tried to reassure me that I was safe.

   It was the paper in my hand that forced me back into consciousness, the calmness and ability to power through what happened completely gone as I focused on my name written in her bubbly scrawl.

   Raising myself into a sitting position, I turned on the lamp, opening the envelope with trembling hands, my eyes watering as I read through it.

      _Marie,_

_I know that what I've done will hurt you in a different way than everyone else. In a sense, it will be harder for you because I've sinned in your eyes. The ultimate sin, and I know you'll think that I'm damned._

_I tried. I really did. I went over and over every possible way out, but there was nothing. No way to be free of the prison I lived in and no way to go back to who I was._

_The only thing I can do to ease your mind is to tell you that I didn't kill the baby. I had a miscarriage a week ago, and I didn't know how much I wanted him or her until I lost them. When it happened, I knew I was done with this life. There's nothing left for me to hold onto._

_Pray for me, Marie. Pray for my soul, and tell Him to forgive me._

_Pray for Sherry. Help her to forgive herself for the choices she's made._

_Pray for Alicia and Phoebe. They need to know that they're worth more than being just a body in a dress._

_Pray for yourself, Marie. Pray for the strength to go on when it all seems hopeless. You're a good person, and you can survive. Don't let what this world has become change you like it did the rest of us. You can change the world, or at least the lives of those you touch._

_I'm free now, and I'm happy. If I can be forgiven, I'll watch over you. I'll be with you all._

 

   I read it over and over again, hoping to make sense of it. But there is no sense to be made when someone does what Amber did. They may have escaped their pain, but it leaves behind even more for the ones that cared about them.

   Everything that I'd managed to avoid yesterday was now hitting me with the force of a truck, and I just barely had enough in me to shove the letter under my bed before the true hysteria started.

   A strangled moan left my body as I curled up, unable to stop crying, Amber's words haunting me. She'd lost the baby. She'd lost her will to live, and one of us should've been able to help her.

   I didn't hear my door open, and I didn't feel him settle down beside me until his arms encircled me and he turned me over, crushing me against his chest.

   "We should've seen," I moaned, shaking in his arms. "We should've known."

   "Shh," he hushed me, kissing the top of my head. "Just cry, Angel."

   I did, for a long time until all I could do was let out a shuddering breath, my arm wrapped around his waist and my face tucked between his shoulder and his neck, and for the second night in a row, we slept together.


	17. Thou Shalt Not  Covet

  
   "Pay attention, kid."

   I blinked myself back to the present, gripping the knife tightly in my hand as Simon retreated to the corner of the training field.

   We were in an enclosed fence just behind the building, and I sidestepped the walker that I'd recently killed. It was my third day of training, and I was getting better with each one. The first walker I'd faced sent me into a fearful run, hiding behind Simon as he took it out, and before the decayed man hit the ground, he'd turned around, gripping me painfully by the arms.

   "What were you told?" he scolded me, shaking me slightly. "If you don't do this, you're going back upstairs full-time."

   "I'm sorry," I wheezed, my eyes falling to the black liquid that was flowing out of its new head wound, Amber's face flashing through my mind.

   "Look, kid," he said, letting me go, "I know this is tough after what you saw, but there are no breaks anymore. There's a constant wave of people and these things that want to hurt you, and if you can't hack it, you might as well give up now, too."

   I'd gasped in shock at his callous words, but he pushed me forward, signaling for another walker to be set loose, and before I could compose myself, the next one came stumbling through the gate, it's cloudy eyes focused on me.

   It was, or used to be a woman, and she was dressed in ripped jeans and a tattered blue shirt, clumps of blonde hair falling out. One of her arms was gone, and the remaining one reached for me as she growled, inching her way closer.

   "Right in the head," Simon urged me, and with a deep breath, I stepped forward, gripping her arm with one hand and quickly stabbing her in the head with the other. She tumbled to the ground, leaving some clumps of skin in my gloved hands. I dry heaved, flinging it on the ground. It was gross, but I felt a bizarre sense of pride, the guilt of taking another life hovering just beyond it.

   Simon must have sensed my conflict, because he turned me around, taking me in a much gentler grip. "They're not alive anymore, Marie. You're not taking a life."

   He really believed that, and I guess I'd have to, also.

   "Again!"

   And that's how it went for each day. He'd stagger them in, and I'd kill them, either with a knife, a hatchet, or some other weapon besides a gun. Simon didn't want me shooting one, yet. He said I had to learn about them first, how to handle them, clean them and load them, and that was fine with me. Baby steps.

   On day three I was in the middle of the training yard as he watched, and with a quick gesture, he gave the signal, but this time, two walkers were released from opposite ends of the yard. I panicked, first making my way towards the smaller one before finally doubling back to take out the bigger one, a man with at least a foot of height on me.

   He towered over me, but with a quick kick, I took his legs out, sending him to the ground before I stabbed him.

   "Quit admiring your handiwork and get moving," Simon barked out, and I jumped up just in time to miss the smaller walker as he stumbled past me, falling over the dead one.

   Straddling the larger man, I took him out, too, panting as I collapsed on my butt.

   "Who told you it was break time?"

   Two more were rambling through the gates, and a flare of anger washed over me. He was pushing me too hard, and I was going to get hurt. But the adrenaline got me back upright, and I repeated the drill, taking out the bigger threat first.

   By the time we were done, I'd successfully killed over fifty walkers, and I felt it in my muscles. They were shaking as I threw down the knife, stomping past Simon, who didn't try to stop me.

   I was filthy, covered in dirt and blood, my arm hurting where one of them had backed me into the abandoned car that sat in the training area, and I was pretty sure I'd have a big bruise.

   "Good work, kid," he shouted after me, but I didn't look back. I just wanted to get cleaned up and lay on my bed.

   The lounge was still being redone, and Negan had told all of us that he didn't want us in there until it was completely ready. So we'd been taking our meals in our rooms or we were free to eat in the cafeteria. No one bothered since I still didn't want to run into Charlie, who I heard was seeing one of the Saviors now, and the wives just didn't go down there. I was happy for him, I really was. It just felt like everyone I knew here had someone special. Except me.

   It had been a week since Amber died, and everyone was still in mourning. Everyone but Carolyn, and she'd ostracized herself from the rest of the wives. After Negan kicked her out of his room the night of, she'd been bitchier, to say the least. He'd warned her against targeting me, but when he wasn't around, she would tear into me, accusing me of trying to steal him away from her.

   Not the other wives. Just her.

   "You're so fucking jealous, Marie," she'd taunt me, standing in my doorway, usually drunk. "You have some sort of a little girl crush on him, but he needs a woman. You can't fuck him the way he likes and you can't give him what he needs."

   All I could do was shut my door in her face. Sherry, who would normally intercede, was too far gone to even notice. She barely left her room, despite my attempts to distract her. I'd even tried to get her up onto the roof to lay out, but she wasn't interested.

   "Maybe Amber had the right idea," she muttered, looking at me with a deadened expression. "What's the point?"

   "Don't say that," I pulled her into a fierce hug. "You told me that we were getting out of here. Are you going to just check out on me, too?"

   She didn't hug me back. She just stood there limply.

   "I know you're hurting," I tried again. "I know you lost someone that you were close to, but I'm not letting you do this. You have one week to mourn. I'm starting my training tomorrow, and you're going to get yourself together."

   Sherry didn't answer, but I felt her head nod slightly, and I let her go, heading back to my room. I knew that she needed time, but I couldn't lose anyone else. I'd lost my family, Father Thomas and now Amber. I couldn't lose her, too.

   Now, three days in, I marched myself upstairs on tired legs, hoping for a peaceful evening so that I could recharge my body. As I got to the top floor, I stepped out to see Alicia knocking on my door.

   "I'm right here," I called out, making her jump.

   "Oh, right," she said, meeting me halfway down the hall. She was dressed up, but she wasn't wearing makeup, her long brown hair pulled back in a ponytail. "Negan wants to see you once you get cleaned up."

   I gave her a smile as she headed back to her room, and I mentally shuddered as I ducked into my room for a change of clothes.

   He and I hadn't spent much time together since the night Amber died. I'd spent the night in his room, and the next night he'd spent it in my room, holding me as I cried. Mine was a delayed response to her death, allowing me to help the others, and it hit me hard when I finally processed it. But since then, he'd kept his distance from me, and I wasn't sure if it was because he thought that night meant more to me than it did.

   The problem was, I wasn't sure what it meant to me. I did know that it was nice to wake up with someone's arms around me. It made me feel safe and wanted. I also knew that he had four women at his beck and call, and I couldn't compete with that. There was nothing I had that he didn't already have access to, and it bothered me.

   Already in a sour mood, I showered and made myself over, putting on only a sleeveless blouse and a cotton skirt that just brushed my knees. The weather was sweltering, and the Sanctuary was feeling the effects. It was just too hot for any more clothes, and I walked barefoot down the hall towards his room.

   When I got closer, the door opened and Carolyn stepped out, adjusting her dress when she saw me. She gave me a knowing look, murmuring in my ear as I walked by.

   "I got him nice and loose for you, Virgin Mary," she laughed. "Have a good dinner."

   "You know, one of these days, you're going to push me too far," I said and she yanked me to a stop, getting in my face.

   "Is that a threat?"

  "No, it's a warning. You need to grow up."

   She heaved me forward, and I took a deep breath, trying to get myself calm, but it didn't work. This was such crap. Why did I have to go in there when he'd just been with her?

   He had her to keep him company.

   I knocked harder than I normally did, and Negan called out for me to come in.

   He was just walking out of his room, which I'd never seen, and he shut the door behind him before sitting down at the dining room table.

   "Hey, Angel," he said, pointing to the chair next to him and I bristled before sitting down. As usual, our plates were already set up, and I picked up my fork, stabbing a piece of chicken before shoving it in my mouth. I could feel him watching me out of the corner of my eye, but I didn't acknowledge it.

   "How was your training today?"

   "Fine."

   "Just fine?" he prodded, and I knew enough to look up at him just by the tone in his voice.

   "It was fine," I shrugged, for once not withering under his laser stare. "Simon's pushing me, and I killed two at once several times."

   "How many total?"

  "Close to fifty."

   "Hey, that's great," he said, and it irritated me. He sounded like an owner praising their dog when they retrieved a toy. "What happened to your arm?"

   Distracted for the moment, I looked down at the newly forming bruise.

   "I got shoved into the car door while I was practicing. It's fine."

   He stood up and walked back into his room, and while he was gone I shoveled down some food as fast as I could, hoping to get out of there as quickly as possible. When the sound of his footsteps got closer, I set my fork down and wiped my mouth.

   Of course, he noticed most of my food was now gone, and he narrowed his eyes, but he didn't say anything.

   "Let me see," he ordered, and I held my arm out as he unscrewed the top off of a little tube of cream, rubbing some into the bruise as I stared straight ahead. "What is your problem?"

   "I don't have a problem," I answered immediately, and he let out a deep breath. "Is there anything else you wanted to discuss? I've had a long day and I'm tired."

   "You'll leave when I'm ready for you to leave," he snapped and I glared at him.

   "Why am I here?" I challenged, shoving my plate forward. "You have Carolyn to entertain you. Can't you just have a conversation with her after you two have sex?"

   "Who the fuck said I had sex with Carolyn? And why do you give a shit?"

   "Uh, she did. Just now. So get her to keep you company."

   "Listen," he said warningly, leaning forward as he dropped my arm, "I don't know who you think you are talking to in that tone, Angel, but you better check yourself right now."

   I knew he was mad, but so was I.

   "Stop calling me that. I have a name. It's just another way for you to marginalize me."

   "Oh, now I'm marginalizing you, Marie?" he snapped, getting to his feet. "I treat you like an adult, and I try to have decent conversations with you so you feel like you belong."

   "No, you don't," I scoffed, shooting him a dirty look. "You treat me like some sort of science experiment, pulling me out once in a while to poke at me and dissect me. A conversation is a sharing of information. When have you ever shared anything with me?"

   I stood up, shoving my chair towards the table, and it banged against it, but for once, I didn't apologize.

   "And I didn't ask to belong. I didn't ask to be a part of this weird harem thing you have going, remember? You don't need to 'treat me like an adult'. I am an adult. I'm not stupid."

   "Did I ever say you were stupid?" he snarled, getting in my face as I took a step back.

   "You act like I'm stupid. Just because I'm not like one of your wives doesn't mean I don't know..." I trailed off, crossing my arms in front of my chest.

   "What? You don't know what?" he taunted me, that maddening smirk forming on his lips.

   "Can I go now?"

   "Get the fuck out," he muttered, stepping aside. I hurried towards the door, slamming it on my way out. Carolyn was standing just inside her room, and I'm not proud to say I flipped her off on my way past, but I did feel a tiny bit of triumph when her mouth dropped in surprise.

   Back in my room, I paced around, continuing our fight in my head, thinking of all the other things I could have and should have said. Why couldn't he just leave me alone? He had four women to distract him. They were all perfectly capable of keeping him busy and providing him with conversation and company. Why did I have to do it?

  Five minutes later I was back in front of his door, and I could hear music blaring out. I realized he was playing my song, and I became irate. _My song_. He had no right to listen to it, and I pounded on his door with my fist, ready to read him the riot act.

   The door flew open, and I forgot what to say. Negan was standing there shirtless, his jeans unbuttoned as I shook my head. Carolyn's nosy head peeked back out in time to see him pull me back into his room, and he shut the door, pressing me into it.

   "What do you want?" I asked as he placed his hands on either side of my head. "Just tell me what you want from me."

   The goosebumps were back as the music invaded my thoughts and Negan invaded my space. His chest was moving in and out rapidly, and I fought the urge to run my hands down his stomach, aching to touch that hair that taunted me on a regular basis.

   "I don't know," he admitted, lowering his head onto my shoulder.

   I shuddered uncontrollably as I listened to the guitar, heard it begging me, and he lifted his face, hovering just beyond my lips.

   "Let me kiss you," he asked again, and this time, I did.

   When we made contact, I felt a flash of electricity. This was nothing like Charlie. Nothing like the few boys I'd made out with in school. He was sucking the breath from my body, and I felt lightheaded. Our tongues met, his exploration of my mouth seeming almost desperate as he wrapped his arms around my waist. I was close, so close to feeling that hair on my body, and I whimpered as he dragged me towards the couch, falling on top of me.

    _This isn't real,_ I told myself. _None of this is happening._

   One of his hands gripped my hair, tilting my head up, and he sucked at my neck, making a satisfied sound as I grabbed onto his shoulders, trying to steady myself, afraid that I'd fall off the edge of the world if I didn't have something to hold onto. It felt so good. I'd never felt anything like this before, and it was a perfect storm between his lips on my neck and his body on top of mine.

   Powerless, I let him hike up my skirt and spread my legs so that he could press himself against me, his pelvis against mine, the hardness pressing into my belly, and my eyes shut automatically as he worked his way back to my mouth, leaving a scratchy trail in his wake.

   I thought I'd understood desire, but I was a babe in the woods up until this moment, until I saw him gazing down at me with a wild look. No one had ever looked at me that way before. I was the nice girl. The good girl. Men looked at women like Carolyn like that.

   "Don't," he muttered into my mouth, reading my face. "Don't ruin this."

   "I-"

   He cut me off with a kiss, settling into a softer groove, his hand reaching back to hoist my leg up, setting it on his back. How long we continued, I don't know, but when Negan broke apart from me, I was panting like I'd just run a marathon.

   "You need to go now, Angel."

   He said it like he was making the ultimate sacrifice, and I felt like a fool.

   "What?"

   "That's enough for one night," he said, rising off of me and running his hand through his hair, taking a deep breath. Holding out his hand, he helped me to my feet as I turned red.

   "Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to stop this right now? All I want to do is throw you over my shoulder and slam you down on my bed."

   My mouth opened at the thought, but nothing came out, and he placed a gentle kiss on my forehead, leaving me more confused.

   "I don't understand," I admitted, looking up at him, and he brushed his fingers over my cheek, cupping it softly.

   "I'm not going to rush this," he said, inhaling deeply. "We need to take this slow. You need to make sure this is what you want. Not just in the heat of the moment."

   Deep down, I knew he was right. Whatever just occurred between us came out of nowhere, and I sensed that he didn't want me to end up regretting it, maybe blaming him for my lack of control.

   "Is this what you want?" I asked in a timid voice.

   "Get some rest," he told me, sidestepping my question as he walked me to the door. Just before I opened it, he turned me back around. "I haven't slept with anyone for the past week. I just want you to know that."

   Unable to respond, I backed out of his room, my fingers brushing my swollen lips and red skin as I passed by Carolyn's room. Her door was shut, thank goodness, and I wandered back to my room, letting out a squeal when I found Sherry sitting there waiting for me.

   "Oh, Marie," she whispered with wide eyes. "What did you do?"


	18. 1 Peter 4:8

   I watched tiredly as Sherry paced back and forth on the roof, my body propped up against the wall next to the door. She was chain smoking, her legs carrying her in wide circles as I ran my hands across my lips now and again. I could still feel Negan's mouth on mine, and they were tingling, the blood still pooling there.

   "What the fuck kind of angle is he playing here?" Sherry muttered as she shot me a glance.

   "Angle?"

   "Yeah, why is he coming onto you? What's he trying to get out of it?"

   "Because he couldn't possibly like me, right?"

   The hurt was there, plain as day and Sherry stopped in her tracks as her mouth dropped open. Of course someone like Negan wouldn't really be interested in me.

   "Marie, that's not what I meant," she said, kneeling down next to me. "I'm so sorry."

   I didn't answer, looking over her shoulder as I felt my eyes start to water. Maybe she didn't understand because she was a lot more confident than I was. She probably had men fawning over her since she'd first started to grow breasts. But I didn't, and she'd just confirmed my worst fear. That I wasn't good enough, or that it was all a big joke or something. A 'Carrie' moment in the making, and I'd be doused in pig's blood as Negan and Carolyn stood by, laughing.

   "I'm going to bed," I announced, climbing up from my seated position, and she grabbed me by the arm, but I shook her off. "I'll see you tomorrow."

   "Sweetie, wait," she called after me, and I could hear her stamping out her cigarette, but I fled down the steps towards the safety of my room, locking the door behind me.

   Sick to my stomach, I got undressed, forgoing pajamas to lay on my bed in the heat, replaying the entire night in my mind, obsessing over the hidden signals I missed to clue me into why he'd kissed me. It made me even sicker to know that I'd enjoyed it in a way I'd never liked anything else before. My family, my love of God, my faith. It had all disappeared the second he'd put his lips on mine, burning away who I was in that moment.

   So, I prayed. I asked for answers and I prayed for strength. I still wanted to leave, that much I knew, but apart from that was a longing to feel that surge of lust and desire that I'd had just an hour earlier, and I knew that it would change me irrevocably. But I also needed more than that from Negan. I needed to know who he was and what made him...him.

    I wasn't going to get any answers tonight, but it didn't make falling asleep any easier as I felt phantom hands brushing my waist and a heavy body on top of mine, sending a wave of heat between my legs. Oh, man, I was in trouble. Especially if it was all just a big lark.

   When I did finally wake up the next morning, I hurried into the bathroom to get cleaned up, carefully avoiding my own reflection until I stepped out of the shower, gasping when I saw my neck. There was a huge hickey just under my left ear, and I very nearly cursed.

   Scrambling around with the makeup that was laying on the counter, I quickly covered it up as best I could, leaving my hair undone before dressing and sneaking down to the cafeteria to get some breakfast. It was still early, and I sat in the corner, eating a quick plate of eggs and toast, planning to find Simon to work off some of my pent-up energy.

   I ended up asking three different people where his room was, but I only got vague directions, so I started off down the hallways, exploring more of the large factory. It was dull and mostly boring until I stumbled on a very large discovery. I was now Marie Curie and Carolyn was my Radium.

   As I was rounding a corner on the third floor, I heard the sound of heels clicking on the linoleum, and I froze in my tracks, liquid fear filling my veins. I knew that walk, the quick one-two as it stuttered down the hall away from me, and I poked my head out cautiously, rewarded with the sight of big hair and even bigger hips swaying from side to side as she reached the end of the long walk.

   I saw her head turn towards me, and I ducked back out of sight pressing myself along the wall that probably hadn't ever been cleaned, hearing the faint sound of someone knocking. The creak of a door opening prompted me to look out again, and a man, a very nice-looking man stepped out, wrapping his arm around her waist before guiding her inside, their eyes only on each other.

  _That scheming, lying jerk._

   How could I possibly be offended that she was cheating on a man with three other wives? I don't know, but I was. All of her 'I love you, baby' crap was just bull. She liked to act like the devoted wife, the jealous one that cared sooo much, and she was screwing around. Threatening me and bullying me. Well, no longer, sister.

   A side of myself that I didn't know existed was forming, and I hop-footed it back down to the main floor, making my way outside to think about how I wanted to proceed with this new information. I don't know how long she'd been messing around behind his back, but it finally brought to light an understanding of all of the times Carolyn had slipped off the main floor when Negan wasn't around. She must've been with her boyfriend, maybe laughing at him, or even mocking Sherry, who'd had to leave her husband while nothing ever changed for Carolyn but her lifestyle.

   Even Amber, who'd struggled so much in the last few weeks of her life. Kicking angrily at a rock, I stomped out back to the recreation area, flinging myself down on the grass, plucking at the blades as I bit my lip, trying to decide what to do. If I confronted her, she'd just deny it and run to Negan, telling him that I was out to get her. No, I had to have proof, something that was undeniable, and then it hit me like a bolt of lightning, an idea so simple and stupid that it was bound to fail.

   I ran over it in my head several times before going back inside to the luxury store, thumbing through racks of items until I found what I needed. It was sitting on the highest shelf, a little dusty as no one in this place probably had a need for it, and I grabbed a few other items so that I'd have enough to camouflage it, carrying the pile to the front to check out.

   The woman running the shop marked all of my things off, deducting my points, and I carried the cloth bag back up to my room, locking the door again as I searched the room for a plug, pulling out the digital camera. It was completely intact, and it even had a charging cable, and I wriggled under the bed to plug it, breathing easier as a red light flashed on, telling me it was working.

   Now, I had to wait and to figure out how to follow her without her noticing me, and I paced around the room, debating on whether or not to tell Sherry. After waffling back and forth, I finally knocked on her door, and she opened it up, starting to talk but I held up my hand, stopping her.

   "I don't want to talk about it," I said, walking in and shutting the door behind me. She followed me over to the bed, and we sat down, each staring at the floor until I flopped onto my back.

   "I am in possession of some intel, and I want you to just be quiet and listen to me."

   "I will," she said in a low voice, laying back next to me.

   "I just found out Carolyn has a boyfriend," I said, and she let out a gasp. "She doesn't know I saw her, and she's shacking up with some guy on the third floor. I think that's where she goes whenever Negan leaves."

   Sherry was quiet for maybe a half a second before she let out a shrieking yell.

   "That bitch!"

   "Shut up," I hissed, clapping my hand over her mouth. "Do you want the whole world to hear you?"

   She brushed me off, shooting me a look. "The girls are still sleeping, and Negan left in the middle of the night."

   "Where did he go?" I asked, completely distracted.

   "Phoebe was up to get some water, and she heard them mention an attack at one of the outposts."

   "Oh."

   That was upsetting for several different reasons, and I felt a lingering worry about Negan, but I tried to brush it off, wanting to focus on the task in front of me.

   "Uh," I replied, rolling to my side as she scowled, "are you upset because she's a cheater, or because she's rubbed Dwight in your face so many times?"

   "Because of Dwight, obviously. I told you I don't care about that dick," she snapped, shutting her eyes as she took a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I know things are up in the air for you right now."

   "I still want to leave, Sherry. No matter what."

   "Even if you sleep with him? Start to care about him?"

   I took her hand in mine, and her eyes opened as she rolled over to face me. She was the first person to treat me kindly here, even before Simon, and I didn't want to lose her.

   "Even if. We go together, just like we planned. Negan isn't going to change that, I promise."

   "Just...don't fall in love with him, Marie. You'll only end up hurt."

   I knew that was true, deep down in my soul, and I nodded with a smile to hide my pain.

   "Anyhoo," I chuckled as she grimaced at my corniness, "we have to figure out a way to catch her. I bought a digital camera from the store, and if we could get a picture of her, then we can, I don't know. Get her out of here? Off of this floor?"

   "All right," she said, pulling me to my feet and ushering me towards the door. "Let me get dressed and go down and talk to someone. I'll find someone she doesn't know to watch her for a while so we can get some more info. I'll come find you later."

   I was pushed unceremoniously out of her room, the doorknob poking me in the butt as she shut it firmly, and I rubbed my backside as I went back towards my room, remembering my original mission as I reversed course back to the steps. I only made it down to the cafeteria when I heard Negan's voice carrying through the large room as men and women knelt down, and I pushed myself up against the wall, completely thrown by the acid in his voice.

   It didn't get any better when I finally laid eyes on him and saw that he was covered in blood, sending my heart leaping up into my throat. He was a man possessed, his bat covered in blood as he yelled at Simon.

   "I don't want to see any of you fuckers until you have answers for me. Do not set foot back on this property until you find the fucks who took out half of my goddamned soldiers," he shouted, jerking his head at me to follow him, and I gave Simon a worried look as he nodded that he was fine.

   "Cocksucking motherfuckers think they're going to fuck with me," he muttered as he slammed the door to the steps open, not noticing when it swung back, nearly taking me out. He stormed up the steps, leaving me in the dust, and we ended up passing Sherry halfway up. He didn't even glance her way, and she mouthed a 'what?' to me as I shook my head. I had no idea what happened other than what she'd told me earlier, and I resumed my path up as she kept going down.  
  
   Negan was already in his room when I reached the top, and I hesitated on what to do. He was clearly not in the best of moods, but he'd directed me to follow him for a reason, and I stood outside his door for a second until finally knocking. He whipped the door open angrily until he saw it was me, and the fire in his eyes dimmed slightly as he turned and stalked back over to his desk, dropping his bat on the wood top, blood dripping in thick globs.

   "Are you okay?" I asked in a hesitant voice and he snarled angrily.

   "Does it fucking look like I'm okay?"

   "I'm sorry," I stuttered, backing up, afraid of his temper. "I'll leave you alone."

   "Stop."

   The word was said coldly, but with less rage behind it than the previous words.  
   
   He sat down with a grunt in his chair, slamming his hand down as I stood there nervously, completely thrown by this side of him. I'd seen him angry before, but not this out of control.

   "What can I do?" I finally asked, and he seemed to deflate, resting his elbows on his desk.

   "Just go sit on the couch," he told me without looking up, and I moved across the room, sitting at attention as he continued to stare at his bat. "I'm going to get a shower," he eventually muttered, disappearing into his bedroom, the door closing firmly behind him. He'd taken the bat with him, but there were still large drops of blood on the desk, and I grabbed some water and paper towels from his bar, cleaning them up before calling down to the kitchen for some food for him.

  They balked at first, the whiny voice at the other end complaining that they were between meals.

   "You do understand this is for Negan, right?" I asked, trying to keep my voice polite as I was greeted with silence.

   "I'll have something brought up immediately," another voice said, sounding scared and apologetic, and I had a pang of guilt. I didn't want anyone to get into trouble, I just felt bad that he probably hadn't eaten anything lately.

   True to their word, a timid young girl appeared five minutes later with a tray, and I thanked her before setting it on the table and taking my spot back on the couch.

   Negan came out a few minutes later, freshly cleaned, his wet hair slicked back as he set Lucille back on her perch, and I saw him studying the desk before he turned around to look at me curiously. His eyes landed on the table and one corner of his mouth twitched before he beckoned me over to sit next to him.

   "Did you send for this?"

   "I figured you would probably need to eat," I explained as I took my usual spot, my hands twisting against each other. "Sherry told me that something happened and you had to leave in the middle of the night."

   "You could say that," he said dully, lifting off the tray to find an array of fruits and an omelet that took up half of the plate. "Someone attacked one of our outposts and slaughtered everyone inside."

   I had a visceral reaction to hearing it from his mouth, the thought of people being murdered in their sleep to be most upsetting.

   "Maybe I'm not the only bad guy that should be damned to hell out there," he muttered pointedly before beginning to eat, and I shifted uncomfortably in my chair, stung by the comment. I was well aware of the things that had been said both to him and about him, by myself and others, but I tried not to rise to his need to lash out. He was obviously affected by what happened, and I wanted to be there if he wanted to talk. What I didn't want was to be a dartboard for his frustrations.

   "And maybe I should just go," I answered, pushing my chair back, but he clamped a hand down on my wrist.

   "I'm sorry," he said, lifting up his head, and I saw that he was sincere.

   I didn't respond, but I scooted myself back towards the table and he let me go. He ate mechanically, and I studied him freely. Negan was a completely foreign specimen to me, and for as much as I'd compared myself to a science experiment the night before, I felt the same way about him. It was just that he had so much more information about me than I did about him, and I wasn't sure how to go about getting it out of him, other than just asking him point blank.

   When he was done, he sat back, setting down his fork, and he finally looked up at me, clearly exhausted.

   "Keep me company for a while.”

   It sounded like a question, a quiet plea, and I smiled briefly before holding out my hand and pulling him towards the couch. He didn't even hesitate this time, laying down as soon as I set the pillow on my lap. This time, when he took my hand, he kissed me softly on the palm before laying it flat against his chest, directly over his heart.

   There was a blanket strewn across the back of the couch, and I covered him with it, albeit awkwardly since it was with my opposite hand, and he adjusted it before letting out a deep breath and closing his eyes. Once I started to run my hands through his wet hair, he growled appreciatively, sending the butterflies in my stomach into flight, and I perversely wondered what else I could do in the future to hear that sound again.

   Between his warm body on mine and the steady beat of his heart, I began to feel overheated, a rush of emotion as I looked down at him, and I had the overwhelming feeling of dread, that I was in way over my head as I remembered what he'd told me the night before.

   He said he hadn't slept with anyone in a week. That meant since the night Amber died, when I'd told him that I was replaceable to him. It scared me, and I wanted to push his head off of my lap and run, but he opened his eyes, startling me, and they narrowed slightly.

   "What are you thinking about right now?" he asked as I pursed my lips.

   "I don't know," I deflected, turning my gaze to his hair, concentrating on my fingers as they wandered back and forth.

   "We have a lot to talk about, but not today, okay, Angel? Just leave it alone for one day. That's all I ask."

   It was a conscious effort to swallow down my nerves, but I did it, finally giving him a smile, and he reached up to grab the back of my head, pulling me down to his lips. I curled my nails into his chest as he gently nibbled on my bottom lip, but he let me go after a second, sitting up.

   "I'm going to head to bed."

   I got to my feet and headed for the door, but he pulled me roughly backward, and I bounced into his chest, steadying myself with my hands by grabbing onto his waist. His big thumb rubbed my neck, and he smiled once he got all of the makeup off of the mark he'd made on me.

   "Are you ashamed of it?"

   "No," I answered quickly, my cheeks burning. "I just didn't want to answer anyone's questions."

   "Sherry's? Or Carolyn's?"

   "Anyone's," I said as he shook his head, kissing me again. "I'll be leaving again tonight, but keep tomorrow night free for me."

   "Are you..." I looked up at him, my nerves short-circuiting as I tried to speak. "Will you be safe?"

   It was like no one had ever worried about him, and something shifted in his eyes, causing his grip on my head to tighten as he firmly pulled me to his chest. I could hear his heart and I could feel his breath as it moved in and out of his lungs. "Don't worry about me, Angel. Just keep practicing. It's very important."

   "I will," I managed to mutter as he let me go, the heat of his body replaced by the space between us when he turned and headed for his room.

   With hazy thoughts, I left his office, my skin tingling and my mind racing as I tried to understand why he was leaving again and what he hoped to find. I still didn't know what was happening between us, but I was afraid something was going to go wrong, and I'd never find out.

   As I moved slowly towards my room, Carolyn came rushing up the steps, out of breath and with heaving breasts as she made to go to his room. This time, I stopped her, and she gave me a dirty look as I positioned myself in front of his door.

   "He just went to bed," I informed her with a cool voice. "He doesn't want to be disturbed."

   Sherry appeared before she could cuss me out, and she stepped between the two of us as Carolyn spluttered uselessly.

   "You heard her," she said, folding her arms as she gave Carolyn a challenging look. "Her boss doesn't want to be bothered. Scamper off, dumbass."

   "You can't tell me what to do," she snarled, but Sherry was on a roll, and she shoved her back, making her stumble since she was in her heels.

   "Wanna bet?"

   Sherry grabbed me by the arm, yanking me to the side. "You know what? Never mind. Go ahead and wake him up. I'd love to see you get your ass handed to you."

   Carolyn's arm rose as she hovered in front of the door, and logic must've prevailed because she ended up dropping her hand, but not before spitting at the two of us. She actually spit, and Sherry dodged it with a laugh, steering me down the hall to her room as I tried to process what had just happened. I'd never seen such a ridiculous display in my life, and I huffed as she pushed me into her room.

   "What. Was. That?"

   "She's a fucking freak, that's what," Sherry snorted as she flung herself down onto the bed. The thought of getting one over on Carolyn seemed to have awakened something in her, because her eyes were shining and I don't think she'd even had any alcohol yet today. "As soon as that whore goes to her room, get changed and we'll go up onto the roof. I think I have everything in motion to catch her. We just have to wait for Negan to leave again."

   "He's going back out tonight," I told her, and her eyebrows rose.

   "He told you?"

   I nodded as she tapped on her lip, probably debating on what she wanted to say.

   "Did you talk about anything else?"

   She was hinting for information, and she was very obvious about it.

   "He said we'd talk about it another day. But, uh," I winced as I studied the floor, "he did tell me last night that he hasn't slept with any of you in a week. It that unusual?"

   She shot off of her bed, opening the door to see if Carolyn was out there. I assumed that she was gone, and she pointed me towards my room.

   "Go get changed. We've got a lot to clear up."

   Since she was in bossy mode, I left without putting up a fight, my eyes lingering on Negan's door as I walked back to my room, afraid and curious about what she wanted to say. As it turned out, I probably should've just left it alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just so you all don't have to Google the verse, haha. :)
> 
> “Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers over a multitude of sins."


	19. This Is My Blood

   I tapped my foot in a steady rhythm on my towel, shielding my eyes as Sherry slapped my leg, grunting in annoyance until I turned onto my stomach, resting my head on my arms as I glared at her.

   I was bored and upset that we didn't catch Carolyn in the act the night before. Negan had left at sundown, but she didn't leave her room. Heck, she was probably tired from fornicating with the third-floor guy all morning and she needed a break.

   Since we couldn't do any recon, we went down to the luxury store, and Sherry shoved a ridiculous amount of snacks into my arms along with a board game. We ended up spending the night in her room with Phoebe and Alicia, and they all got drunk as I watched unhappily. That's not entirely true. It was fun when we played the stupid game and   Sherry pampered me, pasting a thick mask on my face before giving me a manicure and pedicure, gifting me with pale pink nails. I wasn't Sister Marie by the end of the night. I was Mother Hen as I shepherded each woman into her bed, making sure that they were safe and sound.

   But I also felt a lingering worry in the back of my mind for Negan, wondering what he was doing and why he had to be gone all night again. Part of me hoped that he hadn't found the mysterious killers who'd murdered a bunch of people I'd never met. But a secret part, one I was deeply ashamed of, hoped he did so that he could end whatever conflict was developing. The only problem with that was that more people were probably lying dead somewhere, smashed underneath Lucille.

   Death and destruction. That's what he'd brought to my attention now that he'd barged into my life and forcibly removed me from my innocent little existence. But he'd also brought me Sherry and the other girls, along with experience and training to defend myself. Unwittingly, he'd also awakened my sexuality, and I wasn't sure how I felt about that, especially whenever Father Thomas's words would echo in my head.

   Lust, desire, defile. Sin and damnation. Was that what it all was? Or was there true affection and caring mixed in there? Not necessarily love. But could I care about him? Could he care about me?

   Tonight was the night that I'd maybe find out.

   Sherry told me the day before on the roof that he'd never gone more than one night without sleeping with one of his wives.

   "He's never declined us, that's for sure," she told me as I chewed on my thumbnail.

   "But you can tell him no, right?"

   "Oh, yeah. We can and do. I haven't slept with him for weeks, and Amber..." she trailed off as we thought about poor Amber.

   Her letter to Sherry had been filled with apologies and pleas to get out before she was trapped at the Sanctuary forever.

   "And Phoebe and Alicia did sleep with him until Carolyn started coming on strong, distracting him. They both agreed to marry him so that their families could have it better downstairs. Phoebe's mom works in laundry, and Alicia's little brother is on the cleaning crew. They get extra points and private rooms thanks to those two and their marriage to him.."

   "So, nobody really wants to sleep with him except Carolyn, who's also sleeping with a younger man whenever she can?"

   "You sound like you feel bad for the fucker," Sherry snorted, and I was ashamed to admit I was.

   "It just strikes me as a lonely way to live, is all," I mumbled. "Finding people to sleep with just because you don't want to fall in love, and they don't even do that. They just use you to better their situation."

   Sherry turned her head to the side so that she could look at me.

   "Well, he's not even doing that now," she pointed out, though she didn't sound happy. "It sounds like he's saving himself for you."

   I felt a flash of heat and fear when she said it, and I raised myself onto my elbows. "But why? Is it _just_ to get in my pants?"

   With a sigh, she rolled over completely, removing her red, heart-shaped sunglasses to look at me.

   "I don't think so," she said, but it wasn't confident. "I think he likes you."

   That made me feel worse, and I could feel the heat radiating off of my cheeks.

   "It could be very good or very bad for you," she warned me, patting me on the shoulder before she put her sunglasses on. "That's why you two need to have a serious talk tonight."

   "Sherry?"

   She turned her head, but I couldn't see her eyes behind the dark lenses, and I focused on the green palm trees that decorated the towel between my arms.

   "Will you hate me if I do? Sleep with him?"

   I could feel my heart pounding in an erratic rhythm as I waited for her to respond.

   "No," she said finally, reaching out to lay a reassuring hand on my arm. "I won't say I think it's a good idea, but I'd never hate you. How could I with everything _I've_ done?"

   Overwhelmed, I leaned over and gave her an awkward hug, kissing her on the cheek before resting my chin on my arms. As long as I still had her friendship, I'd deal with the rest on my own, consulting my faith and my heart.

   We laid out for another hour while I idly thought about Negan. There was a very real possibility that he was already back, and I felt a tickle in my stomach. He'd said that he'd talk to me and to give him a day. Well, a day had passed, and I hoped that it wouldn't be too forward to begin asking him questions. Things I had to know.

   When Sherry let out a sigh and switched off the music, I followed her lead and gathered up my things, leading the way back downstairs as we almost ran into Phoebe.

   "Hey," she chirped, holding a glass of wine. "We were just coming up to join you. It's going to be a beautiful night, I think. Wanna spend it on the roof?"

   "Sure," Sherry waved her by. "Just let us get showered and changed. I'll see if someone can bring us up more snacks and shit."

   "You can get yours first," I offered, sneaking a peek down the hall to see if Carolyn was lurking around to ruin our fun. Though I didn't want to be a jerk and leave her out, I also didn't want to spend the night listening to her snide comments and vague threats towards me, so I decided to leave it up to the others to see if they wanted to include her.

   "Fuck her," she muttered when I broached the subject, heading to her room for her things as I split off to my own with a shrug. Okey dokey, then.  
When I opened the door to my room, I found clothes laid out on my bed and a white piece of paper. Picking it up, I scanned it quickly, my stomach churning as I picked up the faint whiff of cologne.    

    _7:00 in my room. No need to knock._

   I flipped it over, looking for more information, but that's all that was written, and I set it down to see what was laid out, feeling a pang of alarm when I saw it was the exact same outfit I wore the night Charlie kissed me, complete with my white tennis shoes and a rubber band. Was I being punished? Again?

   Sitting on my bed in my bathing suit, I ran my hands up and down my legs nervously, trying to unlock this little puzzle in my mind. I'd thought long and hard enough about that night, and I didn't need any other reminders of the way it ended.

   I sat there for several minutes in a stupor until I glanced at the clock, seeing that it was already after six, and I jumped up, gathering up my clothes and underthings, rushing to the bathroom. The room was already steamy, and I shut the door firmly, locking it as I hurried up to shower, working to clear my mind at the same time.

   At 6:55, I stepped out in my outfit, my hair pulled up into a ponytail with a light coating of makeup and sweaty palms, carrying my things back to my room where Sherry was lounging on my bed, thumbing through my plant book. She looked up after showing me that she'd seen my note, closing the book with a deep breath.

   "Do you want to talk?" she asked, and I shook my head.

   "I'll be fine," I lied like it was a job and I was a professional at it now. Poor Father Thomas would be so disappointed.

   "Well, if you need me, you know where I'll be."

   Hugging me, she left, allowing me less than a minute to put my things away, running my hands along my ponytail as I walked to Negan's room, feeling very much like I was being sent to the principal's office.

   I knocked twice by habit, not hearing a response before squaring my shoulders and opening the door. Greeted with music playing at a reasonable volume and no Negan, I stepped in, shutting the door behind me.

   "Hello?"

   I got no response, so I sat down on the couch, my leg bobbing up and down in nervousness as I waited. I didn't dare knock on his bedroom door, having been given specific instructions when I first arrived that it was his goddamned personal space and no one was to breach the sanctity of his oasis without his fucking permission, if I remembered his exact words correctly.

   By 7:07, I started to have a mild panic attack, convinced that this was all a prank by Carolyn, and Negan would show up, screaming about me being in his room without him being here.

   At 7:15, I pulled all of his CDs off of the shelf in a burst of anxious energy, piling them on the floor to organize them alphabetically, and then by order of release date.

   Led Zeppelin continued to play as I worked, and I sat cross-legged, surrounded by music, humming and singing along occasionally, losing all track of time as I stacked the plastic cases in a specific order. Robert Plant and I called out a 'hey baby' together and a deep voice responded behind me.

   "Hey, yourself."

   Some sort of cross between a screech and a guttural moan flew out of my mouth as the cd I was holding was flung backward, hitting him in the stomach before dropping back down on the floor.

   Panting, I clutched at my heart as I stared up into a very amused and handsome face, and my eyelids fluttered.

   "You scared me," I managed to croak out as he squatted down next to me, looking at the piles of music with raised eyebrows. "I'm sorry. I decided to put them in order. I hope you don't mind."

   "It can wait," is all he said as he held out a hand to help me to my feet. When we were finally face-to-face, I tried to blame the scare I'd just received on my still rapidly beating heart, but I knew deep down that wasn't the only reason.

   Negan's deep brown eyes were roaming over my face before glancing down at my clothes, a satisfied smile crossing his lips as he gestured towards the table. He looked rested, wearing a pair of jeans that fit him like a second skin, a grey t-shirt clinging to his chest. His face was clean shaven, and I felt like a piece of lint next to him. He should definitely have someone like Carolyn around him at all times. He was a racecar, and I was a ten-speed bike.

   "What's wrong?" he prompted as he reached for my hand, running his thumb across the top while I looked away.

   "Nothing."

   Yes, I was a full blown liar. They just flowed out of my mouth now like nothing.

   "Bullshit," he said, using his other hand to tilt my face towards his. "What's going on?"

   "I'm just wondering why I had to wear this outfit, I guess."

   Not a lie.

   His mouth twitched before he answered, keeping his fingers on my jaw.

   "Because you've never looked more fucking adorable then when you bounced past me wearing these clothes that day."

   Almost immediately, I felt my cheeks heating up, and his smile widened.

   "Every time you blush, I want to devour you," he growled, letting me go, and I saw his dimples grow deeper until he laughed. "I won't though, Angel. Not until you give me permission."

   He coaxed me over to the table where two covered trays were waiting, and I sat down in my usual spot next to him, placing a cloth napkin in my lap while I waited for him to join me after changing the music.

   The live version of Hotel California began, and I smiled down at my legs. My mother had played this song relentlessly. All of the Eagles songs, actually, and I looked up to see that Negan had taken his seat and was watching me curiously.

   "My mother loved this song," I offered, and he nodded in understanding before pointing to the tray.

   "A surprise for you."

   With a bit of trepidation, I pulled off the cover, gasping in surprise at the meal. Sitting on a stark white plate was a burger and a huge helping of fries, along with what looked a heck of a lot like mayonnaise. My absolute favorite meal on the planet, and one I'd mentioned off-handedly during one of Negan's endless interrogations when I'd first arrived.

   "It's a black bean burger," he cautioned me. "I haven't quite captured the now elusive wild cow that currently roams around Virginia like a fucking Sasquatch."

   "It's perfect. Thank you," I breathed with a smile, reaching for a french fry and dipping it in the mayo as Negan's mouth twisted in disgust.

   "Seriously?"

   "Don't knock it til you try it," I said before popping it into my mouth, my eyes closing in bliss. It was even better than I remembered it, and I let out a small moan of pleasure.

   When my eyes opened again, I saw that Negan was still watching me like I was a fascinating science experiment, and I raised my eyebrows at him until he picked up one of his fries, dipping it into the mayo with a grumble.

   He tasted it carefully before putting the entire thing into his mouth.

   "It's not bad."

   "I told you," I smirked before picking up my burger and taking a decently sized bite. It wasn't as good as the real thing, but it was very tasty, and I munched happily as the music continued to play. It was really a very sweet gesture, and I smiled at him again before concentrating on my meal.

   Neither of us really talked during the dinner, and that was okay with me. I didn't want he or I to be distracted while we hopefully had a good conversation after, but someone knocked on the door as Negan finished his last fry, and he wiped his mouth quickly before going to the door.

   I heard the whiny baby voice, and I lost my appetite, setting the last of my burger back on the plate, as Carolyn asked if he had time for her.

   Negan gave her a very firm 'no' before telling her that he'd see her tomorrow with the rest of the wives in the new lounge, and he shut the door, standing there for a few extra seconds as I covered up my tray.

   No matter how many times I tried to forget about his women, they were always there to remind me, and I chewed on the inside of my cheek. He sat back down with a sigh, though he didn't comment on me being done, instead finishing his food at a quickened pace before placing the cover on the tray.

   "You really don't like her, do you?"

   "It doesn't matter what I think," I said abruptly, my eyes on my hands. "I'm not the one married to her."

   If he made even one comment that remotely alluded to any sort of jealousy, I'd walk right out.

   But he didn't.

   "I married her because I wanted to sleep with her. Not because I thought she was a good person."

   My breath came out in a huff, and I tried to infuse neutrality into my body. It wasn't any of my business.

   "Listen, Angel, the world sucks now," he replied, tapping his fingers on the table. "Sex is just about the only really good thing that's left. I enjoy it. I'm not going to apologize for that."

   I'm sure he was right in a way. But I didn't know that for sure, because I'd never done it before. And anyway, I was positive that there were other good things left. Friends, for one. Love, maybe.

   Pushing myself away from the table, my flaming cheeks and I went back over to the CDs, and I plopped down roughly, feeling a sting in my backside as I went back to organizing his music. It was less than a minute later when he sat down next to me, taking me by the arm and turning me towards him.

   "You can treat marriage like a joke all you want, but I'm not sorry that I find it off-putting," I said quietly.

   "It doesn't have anything to do with you," he snapped and I threw up my hands.

   "I'm a nun! Did you really think I'd think the institution of marriage was no big deal? Read the room."

   His eyes glittered angrily, and I turned back around, shuffling a few of the plastic cases together to get them in order, having no more interest in any conversation for the night. We were completely mismatched in every way possible, and I was stupid for even entertaining the idea that we weren't.

   "Not everything I do is a personal affront to you, Marie," he said in a cool voice.

   My hands started to shake as I picked up the stacks, getting to my feet to put them back. Negan remained on the floor watching me, and when I put the last one away, I looked down sadly.

   "I am who I am. I can't change the way I feel, any more than you can change the way you feel."

   He stared up stubbornly, his lips pressing together so tightly that they turned white.

   "Do you want me to send Carolyn to you? You don't need to abstain from the one good thing in the world on my account," I said in a shaking voice, inching towards the door.

   "Yes."

   It was immediate, and it hit me like a knife in the gut. Nodding stiffly, I marched towards the exit, leaving his door open. He stood in the doorway as I knocked on Carolyn's doorframe. She opened it after a few seconds and I jerked my thumb towards Negan.

   "Your services are requested," I replied in a harsh voice as she smirked at me.

   He and I locked eyes as I started back towards him, and I swear that he flinched just a little. But I didn't.

    _Good luck with your std's, jerk,_ I thought to myself as I pulled open the door to the roof, slamming it behind me.

   I could hear the laughter and the music as I reached the top, and my eyes filled with tears as I stumbled out to the three women that sat on cushions, enjoying each others company, not worrying about Negan or any other man at the moment.

   Sherry looked over, her face dropping as I approached, and she reached out her hand, dragging me down next to her as I began to cry heavily.

   "Here," she said, handing me her glass as she put her arm around my shoulders, and it was a testament to how crappy I felt that I took a huge gulp, coughing as it burned my throat and nose. "I take it you got some answers?" she asked as I took another drink.

   "Yes, I did."


	20. Internment

  
  
   I was at the lowest point of my life over the next week, both physically and mentally since I'd arrived at the Sanctuary, and it led to an unexpected event that I could've never seen coming. 

   After I'd been tasked with securing stud services for Negan that night, I'd spent the rest of the evening drinking and commiserating with Sherry, Alicia, and Phoebe on the roof. I'm not proud of the fact that I'd gotten drunk again, and I ended up spending the night in Sherry's room. Thankfully, I didn't get sick or anything, but when I woke up in the morning, I felt like the floor of Grand Central Station. Dirty and walked all over.

   Reverting to the silent sister, I spent the next few days performing my bookkeeping duties with nary a word or look to Negan that wasn't work-related. The shirt that had highlighted two awful days directly associated with him was now in the trash, and I retreated back into myself, forgoing time with the wives and refusing to set foot in the new lounge. Was I feeling sorry for myself? Yes. 

   But I also threw myself into my training, spending hours each day with Simon, who sensed a downward change in my spirits, and after trying several times to pull information out of me, ended up giving up. 

   He trained me thoroughly on the use of handguns, and I'd like to think that I took to it pretty well after a few hiccups. Today was the initial day he had me shoot, and I took out quite a few walkers after first nearly blowing my own head off. I hadn't been prepared for the kickback when I fired my first shot, and the gun jerked back towards my head, firing just near my ear. 

   That little mishap bought me to a twenty-minute lecture about my positioning and the gun recoiling, and I was made to practice using my muscles to absorb it. It was unfortunate for me that I'd had an audience to my mistake. A smattering of laughter rang out until Simon stared down each offender, and he made me do it over and over again until I thought my arms were going to fall off.

   "You're doing great, kid," he praised me when he took the firearm back, unloading it so that I could clean it. "Don't let those assholes get to you. I personally know two of those guys pissed their pants when we rolled up on them. You're a hell of a lot braver than either one of them."

   My cheeks turned pink as I gave him a genuine smile, and we stored the weapons away before going in for dinner. We'd just gotten out food and sat down for a lievely conversation with Dwight when Negan came strolling in, his bat propped on his shoulder, and he made a beeline for our table. Everyone in the cafeteria but us knelt down, and he waved them up absently, trying to catch my eye.

   I, being the fool that I was, dropped my eyes obstinately as he approached, and I could hear a disgusted grunt as he stood right next to my chair. 

   "Why aren't you eating upstairs?"

   "Because I just got done training. Sir." 

   I said it carefully and I saw his fist clench out of the corner of my eye. 

   "From now on, you eat upstairs," he ordered in a wooden voice. "You're not a goddamned Savior."

   "We're keeping an eye on her," Simon interjected, and I concentrated on my food as Negan turned his attention to him.

  "I don't give a fuck," he said, his voice getting louder. "I'm in charge and I say she eats upstairs from now on with the rest of the wives."

   Heat flooded through my body, and my head snapped up at the insinuation, and I spoke without thinking.

   "I'm not a wife, _sir_. I'm an unwilling guest."

   I didn't even get a bite of food as I was unceremoniously dragged out of the room in front of everyone, his big hand digging into the soft flesh of my upper arm, and I fought him every step of the way. Simon stood up, but by the time he got a foot, I was already in the stairwell, pushed roughly forward up the steps, and his annoying hand clamped down painfully on my shoulder.

  When we reached the top, he steered me towards my room, slamming the door behind him as I stumbled towards the bed. A look so terrifying and foreign took over his face as he towered over me, getting nose to nose with me as I sat down on the bed, my legs giving out under me. 

   "If you ever disrespect me again in front of my people, I'll throw your ass down in a cell and toss the fucking key like I do with other unwilling guests. Do we understand each other?"

   I didn't speak. I couldn't speak right then. I was both afraid and abruptly over the entire thing. I was tired of having my emotions jerked around, and the women I had tended to in the past flooded my mind. Their broken spirits and broken bones. Children clinging to them as they sat in the shelter, confused and wondering why they were there. 

   When I stood up without warning, the top of my head smacked into his chin, and he took one step back.

   "Do it. Right now."

   "What did you say?" The words were laced in disbelief and mocking, his nostrils flaring wide as he glared at me.

   "Take me there. Right now."

   "Do you think I'm joking? Have I ever not followed through on a promise?"

   "I don't know," I muttered. "I don't know you at all, _sir_."

   He laughed, but it wasn't happy and it wasn't sarcastic. I think it was because he didn't know how to deal with me right now, and he shook his head. 

   "Oh, you know me, Angel," he snarled, taking a step closer to me, and I could smell the musky scent of his cologne. "And you should know by now that I don't play games."

   I snickered. I couldn't help it. His posturing, his entire schtick struck me as tired and overblown and I shook my head.

   "You're entire life is a game. You play at being a dictator because it's all you have. All these rules and punishments, and forcing people to bend to your will. You do it because deep down, you don't have anything else to offer the world. You know it, and I know it. That's why you don't have time for 'love'. Because you would never get love. You don't deserve it."

   I barely got the words out of my mouth before I was picked up and thrown over his shoulder, the door slamming against the wall as he stalked out. Sherry appeared on the ceiling as I hung there, and I heard her shout for him to put me down, but he ignored her, carrying me back down the steps. I had to shut my eyes so that I didn't get dizzy, and when we reached the bottom he took me along the hallway to another set of steps. 

   Down we went to a basement, somewhere I'd never been before, and I saw a blurry set of metal doors as we strode down the hallway. 

   "Open the fucking cage," he ordered someone, and the sound of keys jingling echoed through the air as a metal door creaked open. 

   I was dumped on the floor, hitting my backside roughly on the concrete, and he turned without a word, leaving me in the dark by myself. 

   I'd gotten what I wanted, and it stunned me. I was actually put in a cell, and I started to panic, feeling my way around the small room until my hands bumped into a metal rod. Searching the cool material, I determined that it was a cot, and I crawled on top with a shaky breath. 

   It was quiet, with only the sounds of my labored breathing and the persistent dripping of water somewhere. I told myself to calm down, that there was nothing in there that could hurt me, and I came to the realization that I'd really overstepped my bounds. But I was tired. Tired of it all, and I prayed for God to come and take me away. Bring me back to my family. My Sisters and my Father, who would never hurt me or try to break me down. Back to what I'd known to be safe and unquestioning, and out of this foreign existence with a man who made me feel so good and so bad, all at one time.

   I'd created my own world of suffering, and I was now drowning in it as I lay on that cot crying where even God himself couldn't find me. The funny thing was, as time passed and I remained alone in the dark, I found something that I'd lost for far too long. Myself. My own company, and in the cool darkness, I began to reevaluate my choices. 

   Lowering myself to Negan's taunts and antagonizing was destroying me. It was wrong, and I couldn't allow it to continue. It wasn't who I was. Who I wanted to be. I wanted to be a good person. Someone that could help others, and maybe help myself. If I was locked in a cell, I couldn't train, and I couldn't plan a way out of this factory. I couldn't use my points to make sure his people were fed and cared for. 

   At some point, I fell asleep, because the sound of the door opening woke me up, and I rolled over to see a tall shadow looming over me. When my eyes adjusted, I saw that it was Simon, and he was holding a bottle of water and a sandwich, and he crouched down next to me, brushing my hair off of my forehead. 

   "You can't keep doing this, kid," he murmured, pulling me into a sitting position. "You're going to push him too far one day."

   He handed me the water, and I took a long drink, refusing the food when he held it out.

   "I can't be something I'm not, Simon. He's the one that..."

   "What, kid?"

   I shook my head, feeling like dirt. 

   "Tell me, Marie. Did he hurt you?"

   Even in the dim light, I could see the genuine worry and concern on his face, and I dropped my head into my hands. 

   "He's determined to try to make me love him," I sobbed, and he wrapped his arms around me. "I don't want to be a wife, and I don't want to be just another thing that he's collected. He kissed me, and tells me he-"

   I cut off my words as he let me go, standing up quickly. 

   "Eat. I'll be back."

   He shut the door, leaving me back in the dark, and I regretted my little confession. Maybe it was wrong to unload on him since he was so close to Negan. I might have just gotten myself in even more trouble, and with a strangled sob, I folded myself back onto the cot, crying myself back to sleep.

   The next time the door opened, I didn't bother to turn around, keeping my eyes closed as I heard the sound of footsteps and felt the heat of another body close to mine. When large fingers brushed against my hair, I ducked my head away from them, hunching my shoulders. 

   A muffled thump and a groan sounded behind me before the fingers resumed their path along my head, but this time I didn't bother to move. He was going to do it whether I liked it or not.

   "This is new to me, Angel," he said, sending a shiver up my spine. "I told you I didn't give a fuck what anyone thinks of me, and I meant it at the time. But every time you flash those big eyes at me, judging the decisions I've made, it pisses me off."

   I wasn't sure if I was supposed to respond, but I didn't know what to say, so I continued to stare at the grey concrete, the single crack in the brick that sat just above the cot. 

   "I'm not trying to get in your pants just because I'm bored, or I need a new wife. I care about you, and I don't know how to deal with it."

   "Why?"

   It was soft, almost a whisper, and I felt him lean over me, resting his chin on my arm.

   "Why do I like you?"

   I nodded, knowing that he could see it, and I felt his lips press against my skin briefly before his fingers curled into my hair.

   "What's not to like?" he noted as I started to cry again. "You're beautiful. You have a good heart. You're completely innocent, and you don't want anything from me."

   "I do want something from you," I muttered in a rough voice, and I could feel him stiffen slightly. "I want you to talk to me. I give you everything and you give me nothing. You're so sure I'll fall in love with you, but I don't know you. I need to know who you are."

   The bristles from his beard were digging into my skin, and his scent surrounded me as I lay stiffly underneath his warmth. 

   "Come back upstairs with me," he said, attempting to turn me towards him. "We'll talk and I'll tell you anything you want to know."

   When I faced him, his face was softer than I thought it would be. and he brushed the tears off of my cheeks. 

   "This is new to me, too," I reminded him. "This is not how I saw my life going, even after everything happened."

   "I know," he murmured, and it sounded sad to my ears. 

   "I'm sorry I disrespected you in front of your men. I'll try to not do it again."

   That brought a smile, and he moved back as I sat up, climbing slowly to a standing position. He motioned for me to follow him, and I did this time without complaint, back up the steps to the main floor and finally to the regular stairwell. I was stiff from laying down for hours on an unyielding cot, but he didn't seem to get frustrated when it took me longer than usual to get to the top floor. 

   "Why don't you get cleaned up and meet me in my room," he suggested, and I nodded, heading off to my area. While I was gathering my things, I heard him announce to the lounge that I was fine and he wasn't to be disturbed for the rest of the evening unless the factory began to fall apart around us. 

   By the time I made it to the bathroom, he was already in his room, and I made short work of my routine, nervously contemplating what he was going to let me ask.

   Underneath that was the stunning realization that he'd admitted that he liked me. He cared about me. And it wasn't because he wanted to sleep with me. Well, not just because.

   As I ducked back into my room to deposit my belongings, I found Sherry waiting just behind the door to check on me.

   "Where the fuck did he take you?" she whispered, clutching my face. 

   "To a cell. Like I asked."

   "What?"

   "It's a long story," I admitted, giving her a quick hug. "I'll come see you when we're done talking. I have to go."

   Leaving her in my room, I made my way to his door, feeling strangely calm at that moment, knowing I was going to get some answers to questions I'd harbored over the last two months. But before I could knock, he'd opened it, and was standing in front of me freshly washed and in a pair of pajama pants and a white t-shirt.

   Once again, there was music playing, and I think it was more for his benefit than mine. Something to temper the situation as AC/DC sung about dirty deeds. 

   I went immediately to the couch, curling up against the side as he came and sat down, leaving an empty cushion between us. Giving me an encouraging look, I took a deep breath. 

   "I guess my first question would be...Why did you punch out the window when Father Thomas passed away?" I mumbled, watching him out of the corner of my eye.

   Negan seemed to think about it for a minute, and I saw several emotions cross his face as if he were warring with them. 

   "It brought back a lot of memories of the first person I watched die when everything went to shit," he said, rubbing the bristles at the very base of his chin, his eyes looking back to a memory that clearly affected him. "It was my wife."

   The urge to comfort him, to try to take away the memory that I'd forced him to recall flooded through my system, and I reached out before retracting my hand.

   "I'm so sorry," I murmured, and he blinked twice before placing a casual smile on his face. 

   "I wasn't the same person then that I am now," he mused, reaching out for my hand anyway, inching forward so that our arms hung loosely on the empty cushion. "I was too much of a chicken shit to put her down after she turned."

   "Was it very long after everything started happening?"

   "No, it was right at the beginning."

   I gave his fingers a gentle squeeze. "I don't think many of us could've done it to the person that we loved. I'm not even sure I could do it now."

   "You could if you had to. You have done it. Your fellow nuns, right?"

   "Doing it haunted me for a long time," I said, swallowing the lump in my throat as I thought about how much had changed for me in such a short period of time. Would Father Thomas even recognize me now? Or would he be proud that I was adapting to the new reality of the world? "Sister Helen took her own life because she couldn't handle everything that had gone so wrong in her world. She used to spend hours praying for the end, and when it didn't come, she took it upon herself. And then, Amber..."

   "You know, you don't have to follow in my footsteps, Angel," he told me. "You can adapt, but not become heartless. You can learn to defend yourself, but not become sadistic."

   I sucked on my bottom lip as he watched me, and I scooted closer to him so that I could see his face clearly. Watch his reactions.

   "Is that what you are? Sadistic?"

   He seemed thrown for just a split second, and then when he replied, the words seemed rehearsed, like they came out because he'd said them so many times.

   "I'm practical, Angel. I spent the first few weeks of this new existence with a group that descended into chaos and bad behavior. They began to revert to a caveman sensibility, thinking that they could take what they wanted and do whatever they wanted, especially to the women in our group. I stepped up because no one else fucking would. I have to be judge, jury, and executioner because no one else would."

   "But taking from other communities? Killing to make a point?"

   "I kill to keep a war from breaking out," he said, his voice just a little bit sharper. "I keep people in line to keep them from getting ideas. People need structure and discipline, because if they're left to their own devices, all hell breaks loose and it becomes Sodom and Gomorrah. If it takes sacrificing one or two to keep hundreds from dying, then I'll do it."

   I wanted to point out his own partaking of the sins in the biblical story, but I kept my mouth shut while he continued. 

   "Do you take a few lives for the greater good? Or do you stand by and allow man's baser instincts to take hold. People need a leader, someone whose authority is not in doubt to keep them from destroying themselves."

   I knew this line of conversation would go down a bad road, and I didn't want to end up in a moral and philosophical fight, not when he was being so open, so I abruptly changed tactics.

   "What's your favorite color?"

   He smiled, making my heart pulse in my chest. "Black."

   "Favorite meal?"

   He let out a growling sigh as he looked over my shoulder.

   "Ahh, a thick, juicy steak cooked medium," he purred, sending a shiver down my spine as he stroked my index finger. "Just a pat of butter on top and seasoned perfectly. A baked potato and steamed asparagus, topped off by a good cognac."

   It sounded amazing, and I felt my stomach churning since I never got to eat.

   "I called down for food for you," he said, reading my face, and I blushed in embarrassment. 

   "Thank you."

   I continued my game of Twenty Questions, keeping it light for now, mostly with inquiries about what he liked and things from his past. Married, no kids. Worked in a school but wouldn't specify in what capacity. No siblings, no parents alive. It wasn't important in the grand scheme of things, but it was beneficial to me. It helped me fill in the lines and colors of the man seated next to me and allowed me to see him as more than a scary, sensual dictator. An enigma wrapped up in contradictions.

   When my dinner arrived, he went to his desk to work while I ate, a delicious meal of chicken and biscuits, and I finished in record time, my stomach aching with fullness. The day had left me tired and full of thoughts that needed to be unpacked slowly and meticulously, and I had to be alone to do that. 

   Stiffening when I felt strong fingers on the back of my neck, I got to my feet, turning around to face deep, brown eyes and a questioning pair of lips.

   "Did you sleep with Carolyn that night to hurt me?" I asked, not daring to look away. 

   "Yes," he murmured, hot breath fanning out over my cheeks. "I wanted you to feel something. I wanted you to feel the way I felt when I walked into the cafeteria and found you watching that little shit like he hung the fucking moon for you."

   My eyes pricked with tears as I thought of Charlie, who would never hurt me like Negan did. Who wouldn't use a wicked woman to put me in my place. One that didn't even like him. 

   "Why?"

   "Because I'm an asshole," he said with a serious expression. "I hurt people, remember? But I'm trying, Angel. I really am. I don't want to hurt you. I want to protect you, and keep you from the bad shit. It just fucking sucks that I'm some of the bad shit."

   "You don't have to be," I replied from the bottom of my heart and soul. 

   He took a deep breath, kissing me on my forehead before taking a few steps back. 

   "I think you should go now."

   I thought I should, too, and I didn't say a word as I stepped out into the hallway, trying to compose myself. I'd received answers, but it only led to more questions. One of which was if he knew everything that happened in the Sanctuary, including my now-defunct relationship with Charlie, why didn't he know about Carolyn?

   That night when I slept, I dreamt about Negan for the first time. He was holding me, curled up against me in bed, and his hands were firmly in mine as we spent the night together. Over and over, he whispered in my ear, the same words.

   "I want you. Only you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Baby steps...


	21. This is My Body

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone's feeling pent up, and someone else is in trouble...

  
   "Ladies. Looking lovely as always."

   Negan came strolling into the new and different lounge, passing by me without a word as I sat at the table working on the numbers, his hands brushing the corner of my arm as I felt a shiver, but I didn't look up.

   "We're going on a run. Does anyone have any requests?" he asked, and I heard Sherry mutter something about a new husband under her breath, but I don't think he heard it. If he did, he ignored her, and I bit my lip to keep from smiling.

   "Can we get some furniture for the roof?" Phoebe asked in a hopeful voice. "It could really be nice up there. You could even join us if you wanted to."

   I knew she was just being polite, but it bothered me for some reason, and I snapped the tip of my pencil with a deep exhale. Again, he didn't look at me, but he said he'd try his very best.

   Carolyn piped up next, unfolding herself from the couch as she strolled over to him, placing her hand on his chest.

   "Some new lingerie would be much appreciated, baby," she purred, shooting Sherry and I a glance as I rolled my eyes behind Negan's back. I knew it was wrong to hate people, but I think I genuinely hated her. "I know you love it when we look our very sexiest for you."

   Sherry snorted, and I noticed that Negan pulled her hand away from him, depositing it down at her side before nodding.

   "Angel? Anything for you?"

   Carolyn shot me an angry look as I smiled politely. "I'm fine, thank you."

   "I'll be back before dark," he announced before stalking from the room, giving me a wink that Carolyn surely saw.

   Everyone resumed their morning activities as I worked, and after an hour or so later, Carolyn slipped from the room as I packed up my papers, earning a laden look from Sherry.

   "You wanna come with me while I put this away?" I asked her, waving to the other girls as I hurried to my room. She followed behind me, leaving the door open a crack as she watched for Carolyn's big butt to sneak out.

   Sure enough, five minutes later, she strolled out of her room, her high heels clicking on the floor as she made for the stairs. I had the camera in my hands, tucking it in my waistband after taking a quick picture of Sherry to make sure it still worked. Her middle finger popped up on the screen as I laughed, and she shushed me before heading out the door.

   She was wearing jeans and a shirt with sneakers on, the same as I, and our movements would be muted behind Carolyn's. I forgot about Negan in that moment and the fact that we hadn't really spoken for a few days. He treated me like he usually did, but he didn't ask to see me alone or to spend any extra time with me. I wondered if it was because he'd shared so much information with me, things that I don't think anyone else knew here and it was his way of regaining a semblance of control.

   Instead, I focused on the clomping steps that echoed through the stairwell and the clang of a door being shut.

   "Okay, let's go," Sherry muttered, flying down the steps as I hurried behind her, my heart pattering with nerves and excitement. When we got to level three, we opened the door slowly, but the grey hallway was empty, the distant sounds of Carolyn walking our only company.

   "Which way?"

   I pointed silently to the left and we crept with careful steps along the edges of the wall, snaking around the third floor like we were practiced assassins. Two turns later, and I pulled Sherry to a stop as we waited for any further noise. The hallway was empty and quiet and I pointed to the room I'd last seen her enter.

   A dizzying sense of fear took over me as we plodded towards the door, perching ourselves right outside to listen. Muted voices bled through the wood, both male and female along with a tinkly laugh, and Sherry scoffed with disgust.

   Only one man came through while we listened, and Sherry waved him away, but he opened his mouth to say something until I fished my Negan necklace out from under my shirt, holding my finger to my lips and beckoned him to move on. His eyebrows rose, but he continued on his path leaving us alone again.

   No more than ten minutes later, we heard Carolyn's distinct moans coming from the room and not long after, the sounds of a mattress squeaking. I squashed down the unseemly urge to giggle, and pulled out the camera, turning it on and handing it to Sherry. Nothing about this was funny, and I chalked it up to nerves, akin to laughing inappropriately at a funeral, something I'd seen many times.

   With a wordless count to three, I flung the door opened on a surprised Carolyn and nameless man who were screwing in the bed, Carolyn's naked body bouncing up and down on top of him.

   "Surprise, bitch," Sherry screamed, snapping at least a dozen photos. Carolyn straddling the man. Covering her breasts as her mouth dropped open. Spread-eagled as she tried to get off of him. Her hand reaching for the camera with a terrified look on her face. It was all there in vibrant color as the man rolled off of the bed, searching for his clothes. The most sickening part was my wondering if she sexed up Negan the same way. Confident enough to gyrate on top of him like I didn't think I could.

   "Get them!"

   Carolyn was screeching at the man as I grabbed Sherry's arm, dragging her down the hall. We took off at a run, hitting the door to the steps with breathless pants, and I started down the steps with my best friend right behind me. Scrambling through the cafeteria, we shot for the front door into the open air, surrounded by Saviors, and I yanked her towards the back area where Simon was supposed to be training. I knew he would protect us, and we were sweaty and panting when we came to a stop just outside the fence.

   He was there, still sporting a black eye courtesy of Negan and his intervention on my behalf and I shouted his name, catching his attention. Holding up a hand, he signaled for the practice session to stop, loping over to the gate as Carolyn's boyfriend came streaking around the corner.

   He unlocked the metal, swinging it open as I pushed through with Sherry, both of us hiding behind his back.

   "Keep him away from us," I begged, feeling him stand up to his full height as the dark haired man skidded to a stop, panic in his eyes.

   "Mickey, what the fuck is going on?" he asked sharply as the man took a step back.

   "These fucking crazy chicks just broke into my room," he shouted, trying to peer around Simon to see us.

   "And why would Negan's women do such a fucked up thing?" Simon demanded in an eerily calm voice. "Something you'd like to share with the class?"

   Mickey's face was red and covered in sweat, and his shirt was on backwards, his tongue snaking in and out of his lips as he tried to come up with a reason that didn't implicate Carolyn the whore. Simon gave him just ten seconds before snapping his fingers, and two of his men came over and took Mickey by the arms, holding him in place.

   "Kid? Care to explain?"

   Sherry spoke up for me, her hands now empty.

   "We walked into his room by accident, and I guess he's shy about his micropenis, because he had a conniption and chased us down the steps like the insecure man he is," she said with a smirk, even though she was still breathing heavily.

   I opened my mouth, but she hit me on the side and I closed it back up again, confused until I remembered suddenly what happened to Dwight. Mickey would definitely be punished, and Carolyn might be given a slim chance to apologize and stay on. I didn't want that at all.

   "Why were you two on the third floor?"

   Simon turned around to face us, and I offered a half-hearted shrug.

   "We were looking for that guy that makes the flavored nuts. The cinnamon ones? We didn't see him in the marketplace and I think he just got promoted," I said, pulling a lie out of my butt. Luckily, Simon didn't have a clue as to what I was talking about, and he seemed to accept my moronic excuse, signaling for Mickey to be released.

   He shook the blood back into his arms, giving Sherry and I a nervous look as Simon stood there studying him.

   "Mickey, is there something you want to tell Sherry and Marie?"

   His red face went even redder, and he mumbled out an apology before Simon waved him away.

   "If you even look at them wrong from this day forward, I'll cut your micropenis off and shove it down your throat," he called out for the entire yard to hear. "Remember that. It apparently won't be enough to choke you, but it'll cause you some discomfort."

   Once Mickey was out of sight, I bent over, placing my hands on my knees so that I didn't faint. Sherry thanked Simon for stepping in, and he squatted down next to me.

   "Do you want to tell me what that was really about?"

   "Not really," I said to the dirt. "But I swear, if I can't handle it, I'll come to you, okay?"

   His mustache wiggled back and forth before he slapped his thighs, getting to a standing position.

   "All right. Since you're here, get your ass ready for training. We're starting now."

   He escorted Sherry to the door, and I watched her warily as she went over to a row of tables and chairs that sat under a poorly built pavilion, adjusting the camera discreetly as I was directed over to the weapons and protective equipment.

   Mickey was long gone, and I had to set aside my anxiousness to see the pictures to do my training, shutting everything out as I began target practice. Three walkers were released at a time, from three different doors along the back fence, and I took aim, shooting at each one after missing a few times.

   My ears were ringing as the drill continued until I found myself out of bullets with three walkers coming towards me. Startled, I looked around for Simon, but he shook his head at me.

   "You're gonna run out of bullets at some point. What are you going to do?"

   I fumbled around with the knife secured to my belt as a decrepit walker surged forward, and I threw it to the ground, working to get the blade free. It grabbed a hold of my pant leg as I extended it up, bringing it down through its skull, my hand going almost all of the way into the mushy hole.

   A groan behind me prompted me to turn to see another one closing fast, and I ducked behind the abandoned car to get my bearings. As it rounded the bumper, I stabbed it through the eye, blood spurting out in a stream onto my shirt.

   "Ugh."

   I almost forgot about the third walking corpse, but it didn't forget about me, and I heard Sherry screaming for me to turn around. I did, and it was on me before I could get my knife up, it's teeth snapping at my face. All I could smell was rot as I struggled to get some distance between it and myself, and I heard the sounds of people yelling and running until its head exploded in front of me, covering me from head to toe in viscera.

   In shock, I let go of its body, and what was left of the man slumped to the ground. My ears were ringing from the shot, and I stood there numbly, unsure of who killed it until a big leather hand jerked me off to the side, and I found myself being dragged off once again by Negan. I'd had no idea he was here, and he deposited me in front of Simon who had come running into the yard to rescue me.

   Negan punched him in the gut, causing him to double over, and I crouched down next to him, my blood covered hand resting on his back.

   "You stupid fuck!" he raged, slamming his bat down in the dirt next to us. "She could've been bitten."

   "I'm fine," I protested, the rest of the words dying in my throat as he turned his dead eyes onto me.

   "I'm sorry," Simon gasped, having had the wind knocked out of him, and I patted him like a dog for lack of anything else to do.

   "Get the fuck out of my sight before I kill you," he said in a low voice. "There's a herd about a mile out. Don't fucking show your face until it's been taken care of."

   Simon nodded before giving me an apologetic look, but I shook my head to reassure him that I didn't blame him for what happened, and he struggled to straighten himself up before leaving the training area. Leaving me alone with a very angry Negan.

   "Were you bitten? Do you have any open cuts?" he asked quietly, squatting down next to me.

   "No. I don't think so," I managed, looking down at my gory arms. There was an abundance of rotted, clotted blood clinging to my skin, but I didn't have any scratches or any way for the infected blood to enter my system that I was aware of.

   "Let's go then."

   It was said softly, and he held out his hand to help me to my feet. When I turned around, I saw Sherry, her fingers clinging to the fence, worried.

   "I'm fine," I reassured her as we stepped out, and she went to clutch my hand, but I pulled it away from her, not wanting to get any on her. She gave Negan a thankful look, which seemed to throw him off briefly before he pointed us towards the door.

   The Saviors that had been entranced by the spectacle suddenly found other things that were more interesting, and they scattered like cockroaches when a light was turned on. Neither Sherry nor I said anything when he led us back upstairs, and he told her to go to the lounge before pointing towards his room.

   Confused, I followed behind him, kicking off my now ruined shoes before stepping onto his expensive, stolen rug. Negan walked to his bedroom doors, throwing them open before calling for me to follow him.

   As I edged my way into his oasis, I didn't bother to hide my surprise as I looked around. It was very richly decorated like the rest of the top floor, and it smelled like him. Cologne, a whiff of brandy, and something else that I didn't have words for. His bed was large, king-sized, and I wondered off-handedly how many people had to have dragged it up the stairwell and maneuvered it into the room. Surely not him.

   Three walls were painted a dark red, the one behind the bed painted a glossy black. Another bookshelf sat by the doors, filled to the brim with fancy tomes, and a leather reclining chair was positioned next to it with a tiny circular table. The bed was covered by a thick, steel grey duvet, a plethora of silky pillows piled up against the solid wood headboard. In short, this room was all Negan.

   "Come on," he ordered, breaking my focus as I blinked at him. He was standing at the entrance to a bathroom holding a pile of clothes, and he disappeared inside. My scalp began to tingle as I peeked into the room. It was pristine, like it had been leached of color. White on white everything except for the black towels.

   An immaculate white tiled floor, a white vessel sink, and brushed chrome fixtures. The most impressive thing was the shower, outfitted with a glass door and two shower heads.

   "Get cleaned up," he instructed me, setting the pile of his clothing down on the top of the toilet. "I'll be back soon to check you over. Do not leave my bedroom, Angel. That's an order."

   He left me alone, closing the door behind him, and I stood there for a moment, feeling adrift. I was in his personal space, and all I could smell was him, giving me an unsettled, yet warm feeling. It was so quiet that I could hear his main door open and close, and once I was sure I was alone, I turned the lock into place, stripping off my ruined clothes.

   It took me a few minutes to figure out his fancy shower, but both heads turned on, treating me to the best shower of my life. Engulfed in warm water from both sides, I watched the blood slide off of my body, pooling in red puddles at my feet before finally becoming clear.

   Lined up on the shelf were bottles of shampoo, conditioner, and body wash, all masculine scented, but they were my only options so I lathered up, my eyes closing automatically as I breathed in the woodsy smelling aroma, my mind wandering to the man who more than likely stood in the same spot I was in this very morning, as naked as a jaybird, and a ticklish sensation began to heat up the space between my thighs.

   Long, toned legs and muscular arms, caressing his body. A firm backside and beautiful dark body hair hanging down as water poured through it. A guttural sound emitted from my lips as I shook myself back to sense, feeling guilty for my impure thoughts. I felt achy and dirty, and I turned off the water, drying myself off as I looked around, sure I would find a camera watching me.

   As I pawed through the small stack of clothes, a different feeling took over. All he'd left me was a white t-shirt and a black pair of men's boxer briefs. I felt absolutely certain this was a strategic choice, designed to keep me from leaving, because I'm sure he knew there was no way I'd walk out of his room in such an ensemble.

   Thankfully, the shirt hung down, covering most of the briefs, and after checking myself out in the mirror, it really just looked like I was wearing a pair of fitted shorts, though I was dismayed to see that my nipples were visible through the thin material, making me cross my hands over my chest after using his brush to detangle my hair.

   After checking to make sure Negan wasn't out there waiting for me, I came out of the bathroom warily, unsure of what to do. He'd told me not to leave the bedroom, and I shifted from foot to foot as I debated just making a break for it. It wouldn't end well for me, I realized, and finally just gave up, wandering over to his books to find one to pass the time.

   There was a novel about Russian tsars, and I settled myself in the chair to read. Three very wordy chapters in, and still no sign of the Sanctuary leader, so I put the book back, walking to and fro as I looked down on the people below, the view landing directly on the front of the factory. He wasn't out there that I could see, and I studied the people, mostly men, as they guarded the area. They moved with purpose, never stopping to just chat or hang out. They'd all been trained to do as they were told, never deviating from Negan's instructions. Or Simon's.

   Poor Simon. He'd now been hit twice because of me, making me worry that he was going to decide that I wasn't worth the trouble, and it spurred me to pace the room, hoping that he was all right.

   Twenty pushups and no Negan. Forty leg lifts and I was still alone. Ten minutes studying my legs and toes before I finally curled up on his bed and shut my eyes, bored of my own company and dying to know if Sherry had confronted Carolyn yet, or if she was waiting for me.

   Instead of being restful, my dream was erotic, my body still primed from my earlier imaginings, and Negan once again took over my subconscious. This time, he wasn't whispering romantic, flowery words in my ear. No, his tongue was in there, licking and sucking my earlobe as I writhed underneath him, my body on fire as I begged him to touch me.

   Dark, lusty eyes focused on me as fingers as hot as fire trailed from my cheeks, along my jaw and down my neck to my collarbone, followed by wet lips. Sweetly aching pressure filled my stomach as he pressed down on top of me, grinding against my core and I woke up with a gasp just before he entered me.

   Sure I was still asleep, those same eyes were watching me as one finger ran up and down my arm, a head propped up and knees that brushed against mine.

   "Having sweet dreams, Angel?" he asked in a velvety voice, and I reacted without thinking, without second guessing it, pulling his face down to mine, opening my lips with a whimper.


	22. The Last Temptation

   Wanton. Lustful. Aggressive.

   I was all of those things and more the moment our lips touched, a stranger to myself and intrinsic at the same time. I can't explain it, but it was like a long-dormant part of me woke up, and it was roaring for attention.

   There was only a second's hesitation from Negan as I roughly grabbed him by the back of the head, moaning into his mouth before he responded in kind, his fingers digging into my back, kissing me like we'd been intimate a thousand times before. 

   Every stroke of his tongue on mine was an electric pulse, continuing the state of heightened arousal that I was in, and the back of my mind was littered with thoughts of pleasure that I'd denied myself throughout the years. Keeping from overindulging on chocolate mousse to forgoing clothes that I'd admired. Even slapping away tentative hands on my breasts during my few clumsy makeout sessions. All reasoned away and refuted. 

   Now, there was only Negan, his lips sucking mine as he let out a growl, sending shivers through my body. He was enjoying it. Enjoying me, and it gave me a high like nothing ever had before. He pulled me flush against his chest, sliding his right leg between mine, and his bare skin rubbed slowly along the tops of my thighs, sending me into a frenzied state that I wanted to disappear into. 

   Blindly, I tried to pull him on top of me, my nails digging into the back of his head, and I nearly succeeded, but he broke apart from me, making my eyes jerk open as I sucked in a lungful of air. It was like I'd been underwater for ten minutes, and I was shocked as I broke above the surface.

   He took me securely by the chin, running his lips along my jaw as I dropped my hands, frozen in place. 

   "Oh, sweet girl, you are absolutely fucking killin' me," he growled, his thigh nudging my leg up higher along his. 

   "Then why'd you stop?" I breathed, my fingers curling into my palms, my breath so uneven that I could barely get the words out. 

   He tilted his head up so that we were eye to eye, and the intensity of his gaze left me ablaze. A yearning to bury myself deep inside his chest and never crawl out. 

   "Because I have no idea if you're even aware of what's going on. You woke up out of a sound sleep and attacked me."

   "I- isn't this what you wanted?" My voice was low and pained to my ears, a brevity that wasn't ever there before.

   "It is," Negan assured me, inching my leg around his waist, and the throbbing sensation increased, making me squirm against him. "As long as it's what you want. You need to say it."

   "Say what?"

  "That you want me. That you realize what all of this means," he murmured, searching my face for any signs of distress. 

   "Does it have to mean anything?" I searched right back, unsure of what he really was asking of me. 

   "Yes. It means that you're giving yourself to me. That you're trusting me not to hurt you."

   I closed my eyes as I explored my heart for what I wanted. To know that I desired to make a change in our dynamic, and to know that it would never be the same, at least for me. In the darkness behind my eyelids, I reached out for his chest, laying my hand over his heart, and I felt his fingers close over mine. His heart was beating rapidly, the same as mine, and I took the leap, nodding my head. 

   "I'm trusting you," I murmured. "Right now, I trust you. But I need something from you."

   "What?"

   I forced myself to look at him, tell him what I had to have. My only condition. 

   "I can't do this if you're going to continue to sleep with the others right now."

   His face dropped slightly, and I tried to lift my hand from his chest, but he held it firmly. "Is that your absolute red line? Your non-negotiable?"

   "Yes. I know who I am, and I wouldn't be able to stand the thought of you with another woman. Not if you care about me like you say you do. I'm not saying you have to love me," I verified, and his hold loosened slightly on my hand, "but it's how you can show me that you respect me. That you appreciate me giving you my heart. My...everything."

   I watched his Adam's apple bob up and down, and I knew what his answer would be, and it wounded me more than I thought it would. I wasn't enough for him to give up unfettered access to other women, especially Carolyn, and I pushed him away gently, getting into a sitting position.

   "Never mind," I said quietly, and he dropped my hand, making the decision for him. "This won't work."

   "It's not that," Negan said, but I got off of the bed, forgetting that I was wearing his clothes and I started for the door. "Can't you just give me a minute here?"

   "No. I'm sorry, but no."

   I didn't turn around because I knew that if I did, I would start to cry. Instead, I walked out of his room and into the hallway, heading immediately for my room to change. I didn't want to hear excuses and half-baked lies about why he couldn't grant me the same respect I was expected to show him. It would be easy to just toss aside who I was, all because he made me feel so good when I was in his arms.

  Once I was alone, I let out a shaky breath before pulling off his shirt and briefs, setting them together on the bed. It didn't change the fact that I could still smell him all over me, a combination of his shower products and his own natural scent that seemed to have rubbed off on me when we were wrapped around each other. 

   Since it wasn't even dinnertime yet, I changed into a sundress, braiding my hair blindly and putting on a pair of sandals, running my hand across my throat before going to Sherry's room. Knocking once, I waited for her to open the door, but she apparently wasn't in there, so I ducked into the lounge, but it, too was empty. 

   I could hear movement in Negan's room, and I didn't want to see him again, so I hurried towards the roof, where I found everyone but Carolyn sitting on a brand new outdoor set, complete with an umbrella, sharing a pitcher of what looked like margaritas. 

   "There you are," Alicia called, waving me to an empty chair. There were five total, all sporting mossy green and white cushions, and I sat down next to her, taking an empty glass and pouring myself a large serving of alcohol. I could feel Sherry watching me, but I sucked down a large gulp, finding that it suited me very well. 

   "How come you smell like Negan?" Phoebe asked, her cheeks flushed from drinking. 

   "I had to shower in his room," was all that I offered, and I shot Sherry a look. "He was pissed because I almost died today."

   "What?"

   Leaving out the Carolyn excursion, I told them about my training and how he'd shot the walker that I'd struggled with, covering me in blood. 

   "It wasn't Simons fault," I muttered, draining down the dregs of the pale green liquid. "It was mine for not paying attention."

   "Yeah, but why are you even training? You don't have to," Phoebe hiccuped, leaning over to suck on her straw. 

   "I'm not a wife," I reminded her with a smile. "And I want to be prepared in case something happens. There's a chance I won't stay up here forever."

   "What do you mean?" Alicia looked flabbergasted at the thought.

   "I'm not a wife," I repeated, "and I don't want to be. Besides, you never know what could happen. There could be an attack or a big herd or something, and I want to be able to defend myself."

   "Can we change the subject please?"

   Sherry was in a sour mood, or she was pretending to be, anyway. When I turned my eyes towards her, she discreetly patted her chest, and I deduced that she was holding onto the memory card for the camera. Good thinking. Carolyn would no doubt tear through both of our rooms if she got half a chance. 

  _I almost had sex with Negan today._

   The thought popped into my head like a flash of lightning, and I felt my stomach clench at the possibility. I couldn't tell if it was a good feeling or a bad one.

   "What should we talk about, then?" Alicia giggled, swirling her glass around in her elegant fingertips. "The latest movies? Or about our exciting lives on the top floor?"

   "You're not required to be here, Alicia," Sherry snapped, standing up abruptly. "You can leave anytime you want."

   She stormed off, leaving the three of us staring after her. What had I missed? Didn't she have a good day? We caught Carolyn in the act, and we'd all be better off for it. 

   "I really wish she'd just stay away from Dwight," Alicia murmured, sharing a look with Phoebe. 

   "Wait, she saw Dwight?" I asked, wondering when that happened. It must've been while I was asleep. 

   "She can't," Phoebe said in a low voice. "She loves him, still."

   I felt a lump in my throat, washing it down with another sip of my margarita as I watched the sun go down. It was bright orange, filtering through the leaves in the distance, and I hoped that she'd be able to go soon. I made a vow to start figuring out a way to secure some weapons, maybe when Simon wasn't looking. Even though everything was catalogued, there had to be a way for me to fudge the numbers, since I had access to everything. 

   The other two continued to chat while I got lost in the logistics of how to make her happy. She was a bird, trapped in a cage, and I knew I somehow had the key to set her free. Pickup spots, outposts, I had seen maps of all of them, and I knew when and where they went, all from being included in meetings, someone who was considered unimportant and unlikely to abuse the information. 

  Dwight and I had only had a handful of conversations, but he was the other important piece. If I was the key, then he was the lock. He could come and go as he pleased, and he could help us escape. Get us out undetected. But I needed to know if he would leave all this behind and go with us, with the woman who still loved him. 

   "Marie?"

   I turned back to Alica, who was watching me curiously. 

   "We're gonna go down for dinner. You coming?"

   "Oh, I'll be down soon. You guys go ahead."

   They got up, heading down hand in hand, and I was left alone on the roof as the purple sky and the last of the margarita kept me company. The table was cool to the touch, the beveled glass top littered with cups and drops of water, and I rubbed my arms in the balmy air, goosebumps forming since I knew I was being watched. 

   He stepped out slowly, but I kept my eyes on the horizon, reaching out for my glass. My own personal wasp, hanging around me and stinging me over and over. Not enough to kill me, but it hurt nonetheless.

   "Am I allowed to talk now, for fuck's sake?"

   His profanity barely even registered with me anymore, and I shrugged. 

   "When have you not been allowed to voice your every thought?" I replied, taking a sip to busy myself. 

   "You knew who I was and how I lived," he reminded me, pulling the chair out, scraping it across the rough blacktop. He sat down next to me as I finally acknowledged him, my lips tingling as I glanced at his.

   "And you knew who I was when you stood in my yard and introduced yourself. It hasn't stopped me from changing, Negan. It's what you wanted. That's why you brought me here, and sent me out to train. Why you flirted with me, and kissed me."

   "Angel, I'm never going to be a regular guy, just plodding along through this life, or whatever the fuck you want to call it. I'm never gonna be easy, or not in charge. Not in control of every life in this building."

   "I understand that. But that has nothing to do with me. None of that affects what I said, and you know it. If you don't want to give up your cushy, easy, uncomplicated relationships with women who you know don't care about you, then don't. Maybe I wouldn't either if I were you," I said, unable to keep from smiling sadly. "But it's not fair for you to expect me to devote myself to you when I don't get the security of knowing that you'd be willing to give something up for me. My feelings for you are wearing me down, and we can either just both move on, or you can take a chance. The choice is yours, and I won't think badly of you if you don't take chances anymore."

   I stood up with my glass, and he grabbed me by the wrist, but I pulled myself free. Bending down, I kissed him gently on the forehead before heading inside, seeking safety in the lounge. The other women were already eating, and I sat down next to Sherry who was grinning at Carolyn. 

   The other woman looked ill, for once not made up and sporting her usual cockiness. Phoebe and Alicia were aware that something was going on, but I was intent on just getting through dinner, and I served myself, choking on my first bite when Sherry spoke.

   "Marie and I want to hang out with you tonight, Carolyn, bring you back into the fold, so to speak. When we're done, come join us back on the roof, all right?"

   Four pairs of eyes stared at her like she'd just debuted a third arm, and I dropped my head back down before someone brought me into it. 

   "No." 

   Sherry smirked, completely undeterred.

   " _Picture_ it, Carolyn, baby. All of us, getting along for once. That only happens when you climb off your _Mickey_ mouse pedestal and put a little effort in."

   She looked like she was going to vomit, but there was also a defiance there, a dare to let everyone else in on the secret. It would be admirable if she wasn't such a skeeze, and I raised my eyebrows, waiting to see what she'd do.

   "Fine."

   It was settled, and Sherry picked up her fork, digging into her pasta salad like it was the best thing she'd ever eaten. The tension was thick as we each avoided looking at each other, and I wanted nothing more than to just be done with the charade of...whatever we were trying to masquerade as. Friends? Sisters in arms?

  The door opened up as we were finishing, and an older man from the kitchen started collecting our plates until Sherry asked him to bring up more drinks. He disappeared and returned ten minutes later with a tray laden with another pitcher of margaritas. 

    _When in Rome_ , I thought, taking it from him and carrying it back upstairs. Negan was long gone, and I set the tray down, moving towards the edge of the roof to wait for the other two. Sherry arrived first, but we stood in silence until we heard Carolyn's heels on the metal stairs. 

  Sherry pulled me over to the table, handing me a knife that she'd swiped from our meal, and I tucked it between my legs, pulling my dress up around it, hiding it from view in case Carolyn tried something. 

   She sat down opposite Sherry, looking like she wanted to fling us both to our deaths, and Sherry poured us each a glass to drink.

   "Shall we begin?"


	23. Blind Faith and Open Eyes

   I seemed to be the only one on the roof that was nervous, and I wiped my palms off on my dress before taking a sip of my drink, muddling my way through the dirty looks that Sherry and Carolyn were exchanging.

   "Let's get this shit over with," Carolyn finally muttered, glancing at me. 

   "Oh, this will go as long as we want it to go, sweetie," Sherry smirked, tipping the glass forward. "You had no fucking problem torturing me ever since your skanky ass showed up. And, you've been messing with Marie for no good reason. So, sit back and get comfortable, we have some shit to discuss."

   Carolyn went to say something, but she must've thought better of it, because she merely flipped her hair over her shoulder and leaned back in the chair, her foot bobbing up and down rapidly.

   "First of all, you will no longer be sleeping with Negan," she announced, making my jaw drop. I'd thought we were getting her off the top floor as soon as possible. But she continued on. "That is, for as long as you're a wife, which won't be much longer. You're going to gradually distance yourself from him before you finally tell him that you want to go back to the general population."

   Carolyn looked at her skeptically. 

   "And why in the fuck would I do that when I've got such an easy job?"

   "Do you even like Negan?" I blurted out. "At all?"

   She turned her head to look at me, surprised. Something clicked in her eyes, and her face was both taunting and pitying. 

   "I like his dick," she grinned. "Everything else I could take or leave."

   It grossed me out, how cavalierly she was taking this, and again, I felt bad for him. Maybe he knew everything she said and did was only for personal gain, that it was all a lie, but it just didn't sit well with me. Alicia and Phoebe never pretended their situation was any more than what it was. Convenience. And Sherry, well, I think that Negan actually admired that she didn't hide her contempt.

   But Carolyn was worse than a user. 

   "You have to be the most disgusting person I've ever had the misfortune to come across," I muttered, and she pursed her lips in a mocking frown. 

   "Grow up, virgin. All of my life, men have only wanted my body, and once I realized I could use that to my advantage, I became the one in power. Don't get pissed at me just because I figured it out and you didn't."

   "And don't get pissed at us because you were stupid enough to get caught cheating. As far as I know, he gave you one rule, and you couldn't even follow it," I said crisply as she laughed. 

   "Oh my God, you're actually sweet on that fucker," she said wonderingly. "I was always just looking to rile you up, but you actually care about him."

   I could feel my cheeks heating up, and Sherry responded by throwing her drink in Carolyn's face, dousing her with sticky alcohol. 

   "The next fucking words you better say are 'I'm sorry' or so help me God, I'll go straight to his room and show him our little amateur porno. You really seem to like Mickey, so it would be a shame for his face to turn into prosciutto."

   Carolyn let out an earsplitting screech, scuttling back as she wiped at her face, launching up to come around the side of the table, and I swung into action, pulling the knife from between my legs.

   "Sit down," I hollered, startling them both. I wasn't meek Marie right now, seeing my friend being threatened, I was the lioness that was hidden in the lamb, and I lunged forward, holding the blade just centimeters from Carolyn's throat. Her eyes were wary as she tried to determine just how serious I was. Incrementally, she lowered herself back down, her back arching away from me.

   "I'm sorry," she managed to choke out, though I know it was killing her. 

   "Don't care," I stuttered, retracting my arm. "All I care about is getting you and your toxic existence off of this floor."

   We were getting close to being in the dark, and I wanted to hurry this up as much as possible. 

   "Neither of us wants to see Mickey get hurt. But you're our main concern and you brought this all on yourself. You may think that going to him to confess will save you, but I'm sure that once he sees what you've been up to in living color, you'll be in just as much trouble as your buddy," Sherry told her disdainfully. "You can go. That's all we need to discuss tonight."

   When Carolyn stood up, she threw her shoulders back and tried to walk with some dignity towards the steps, and I dropped the knife onto the table where it clattered against my glass. My bravery was gone, and fear began to take its place. I'd never threatened anyone in my life before, and I was thrown by my own reaction.

   "It's okay," Sherry said, scooting her chair closer to mine. "You're a badass, Sister."

   "Sherry, this isn't funny. What if she tries to retaliate?"

   She patted my hand before draining the rest of her drink. She was much calmer than I was. 

   "Do you really think I'd let her go so easily?"

   "Huh?"

   She started to laugh, little tears pouring out of the corners of her eyes. 

   "I didn't just see Dwight while you were doing...whatever you were doing with Negan," she huffed, pouring some more to drink, batting my hand away as I tried to stop her. "I have another friend downstairs, and he has a working printer."

   I was lost until I realized what she meant, and I busted out laughing. 

   "Carolyn is going to find a very interesting picture underneath her pillow when she goes to bed tonight, and there are plenty more where that one came from."

   "I think I might be a little bit in love with you," I said admiringly as she winked at me in the fading light. For a split second, I thought that she was going to ask me about Negan, but she apparently sensed my apprehension, and she kept her mouth shut. 

   By the time the liquor was gone, I was tired and ready for bed, and we went down arm in arm. The lounge was empty and the hall was quiet as we stopped in the bathroom to wash our faces and brush our teeth, and with a hug goodnight, we split off to go to our respective rooms. 

   Negan's clothes were still sitting on the edge of my bed, and with a pang of longing, I set them on the dresser, climbing into bed. It took me a long time to fall asleep as my mind drifted back to our conversations, and I felt the distinct alarming possibility that if Carolyn began to shut him down, that he'd just find another wife or revert back to Phoebe or Alicia, and a tightness formed in my throat, causing an ache that made it hard to breathe.

   My sleep was restless that night as I tried to imagine what was going through Negan's mind. Was he thinking about me, too? Did he even care, or did he shrug me off as easily as he took off his clothes, setting me aside without a second thought?

   I rolled over as the first bits of dull light bled through my little window, and I let out a shriek as I came face to face with brown eyes. Negan held up his hand, and I flinched back, my hair sticking up everywhere since some of it had come out of my braid. He smoothed it down for me, my heart thudding from the scare.

   "Time to get up, Angel," he told me in a neutral voice as I sat up, rubbing my face. 

   "Why? What time is it?"

   I was too tired to feel anything. Not even pain or embarrassment, and I hunched over, yawning. 

   "We're going on a field trip."

   He ran a finger along my jaw for just a second, dropping his hand like I'd burned him, and he straightened up, strolling to the door as if he didn't have a care in the world. "I brought you some boots. Be downstairs in ten minutes."

   A trickle of excitement bubbled up in my chest as I got to my feet, rummaging around for a sturdy pair of jeans and a t-shirt, and I noticed that Negan's clothes were gone.

   He must've taken them back, having made his decision, and I no longer wanted to go anywhere with him. Being rejected was bad enough, but now having to spend who knows how long with him, at his mercy was not a prospect that thrilled me. 

   Suppressing a pitying sigh for myself, I gathered up my belongings and went into the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth, trying vainly to wipe off the scent of Negan's bodywash with a wet washcloth, finally giving up and trudging back to my room. 

   Once my spanking new boots were tied, I popped into the lounge for a piece of bread, waving to the girls, even Carolyn before traipsing down the steps and through the cafeteria. Negan was waiting just outside the doors, wearing his leather coat and holding Lucille in his grip, eyeing me as I moved towards his men.

   Simon was standing next to him, but he didn't look happy to see me, and I was sure it was because he was done with trying to help me. Negan noticed, and I saw him lean over and whisper into Simon's ear, giving him an attitude adjustment.

   "Let's go," he announced, taking me by the arm and steering me towards a beat up truck, opening up the passenger's side door.

   "Thank you," I murmured, and he shut the door, crossing around the front to get in the driver's seat. Great. I really was trapped with him.

   He drove out of the gates, and we passed by the chained and impaled walkers, most of whom looked like they were ready to collapse into a gooey pile. I could hear his arms flex inside his leather jacket making a squeaky sound, but I kept my face turned towards the window, dying to ask where we were going, but not doing so. I have no clue why, but I knew he was waiting for it and I just didn't want to give in at this point. About anything.

   We were in the car alone for two hours and seven minutes, and he didn't say two words to me. And when I say two words, I mean it. I was graced with one, a stilted 'here' thrown my way when he handed me a gun, his eyes focused on the road. So, not only was I rejected, I wasn't even worthy of a conversation at this point, and my self-esteem hit new lows. Not that I had much to begin with, but, man. 

   The road that we were driving on was bumpy but clear of walkers, and it was plain to see that it was well-maintained, or at least well traveled, and since I had no one to talk to, I soaked up the scenerey instead, losing myself in the tall grass that grew along the edge of the asphalt, the trees that whistled lightly in the breeze. Even the sound of the wind rushing through the cab, ruffling my hair and clearing my head was nice. 

   At just over two hours, Negan began to slow down, turning onto a gravel road, and I straightened up in my seat, my fingers curling nervously around the gun that was sitting in my lap. He still hadn't said anything, and I tried to memorize the area, taking note of a burnt tree that looked like a claw reaching up from the dirt. A few run-down buildings stretched out in front of us and another one that looked like a smaller version of the Sanctuary, only four stories high, and surrounded by vehicles placed bumper to bumper.

   There were a few men walking around on raised platforms, and when they saw our approach, they waved down to people unseen, and Negan chuckled under his breath. I glanced at him, and I was suddenly back in the yard of the rectory, with the man in black, wearing the Devil's grin. 

   He stopped the truck just a few feet away from a red SUV that was blocking the entrance of the mini-factory, an old, dusty sign welcoming us to Honeywell sitting just behind it. 

   "Stay with Simon," he ordered me in a sharp voice, climbing out of the truck as I sat there in surprise. This was one of his communities that he took from. He'd brought me on a pickup. I knew that there were only three dozen people that occupied the decently sized building, and they mostly supplied general merchandise like clothing and canned food. He'd just been here a week before, and I thought that they weren't due for a visit for another week, but maybe I was mistaken.

   A knock on the window made me jump, and I scrambled out of my seat, bumping into Simon's chest as he steadied me. "Keep your mouth shut and your eyes open," he said into my ear before turning around, and I trailed behind him with wide eyes, watching as the men on platforms stared down at us, hate clearly written across their features.

   "Good morning," Negan shouted, puncturing his words with a wave. "We're not supposed to be here today, I know, but I like to keep you fuckers on your toes. You understand, right?"

   No one spoke, but I felt three warm bodies as they closed rank around me, insulating me while a very tall man wearing a baseball cap climbed down and took wary steps towards the cars. 

   "Stellan," Negan said warmly, "great to see your ugly face, man. Come on out here."

   The man, Stellan, was probably in his forties, and he was long and lean, shaped like a pole. He had blonde hair that poked out in all directions underneath his cap, and his hands twitched as he stepped through a two-foot wide hole that had been deliberately left between two of the vehicles. 

   Negan had his bat on his shoulder and he let it drop, pointing it towards the apparent leader of Honeywell.

   "I'll give you three guesses as to why I'm darkening your very unattractive doorstep this morning, Stellan. But I'm sure you don't need three."

   The bat was hovering just underneath Stellan's chin, and I could swear that it brushed the tip of his skin, judging by the flinching motion that the very tall leader made. 

   "I know we were a little light last time-"

   "You were more than a little fucking light, string bean," Negan interrupted, and he began to walk back and forth in front of Stellan, his head held high and his shoulders back, looking every bit like the intimidating specimen that he was. I felt a solid pit of coldness in my stomach as I watched him, this man that was so foreign and so familiar to me at the same time, remembering my own fear and awe the first time I saw him.

   "You know what I expect, and you disappoint me, Stellan," he said in a chiding tone, his tongue snaking out across his lips before he turned his back to us, and I tugged on Simon's shirt. He shook me off and I could feel the warning as he shook his head once. I didn't want to see anyone die. 

   "We have the rest of our tribute," Stellan said, and I could see that he was trying to be strong, brave in front of his people. I simultaneously admired and pitied him, and I ducked behind Simon's shoulder preferring to just listen and not watch. 

   I heard a clap, and Negan's throaty laugh filled the air.

   "Now that's what I like to hear, but Lucille," he said, "well, she's going to be absolutely crestfallen. You see, she's thirsty, just dying for some fresh blood. But my naughty girl will have to wait for another time. I can hold her off for now, Stellan, but if you don't have twice the usual amount next week, I'm going to let her do what she does best."

   "Twice?" The word was faint and fearful.

   "Did I stutter?"

   I didn't hear a response, but the sound of snapping fingers sent the men surrounding me into action, and I found myself standing alone as they strode behind Negan into the factory. My cheeks began to feel warm as the remaining men on the platform stared down at me, and I backed up to the truck, holding my gun down at my side, the finger on the trigger in case I needed it. 

   My mind was swimming as I stood there, watching the back and forth as boxes and bags were carried out and loaded up, and I felt bad for these people who were probably struggling to keep themselves afloat while I had access to everything. Food, new clothes, even a digital camera, and I could feel my eyes pricking, prompting me to roughly wipe my face on my bare arm. I was a jerk. 

   Once the tribute was thoroughly accounted for, Negan came striding out of the factory, talking in a low voice to Stellan before clapping him on the back one more time, and as he got closer to the truck, I climbed back in, setting his gun down on the seat. I had a lot to digest.

   The procession back to the Sanctuary was slow, and Negan's radio sparked to life occasionally as Simon offered a few words here and there. Negan would bark out answers, his fingers brushing over the handle of his bat, and I sat submissively in my seat, my fingers twisting together. 

   We were just outside the gates of the Sanctuary when Negan jerked the truck off of the road, allowing the others to pass by. He parked us and turned off the ignition, twisting in his seat to face me. I mirrored his position, my heart starting to thud as he stared at me impassively. 

   "Do you know why I brought you along today?" he asked, and I shook my head, not trusting my own voice. "I wanted you to get a taste of what I do. Who I am when I'm not with you."

   He reached out, untangling my fingers from each other, cupping both of his hands around mine. 

   "I'm never going to be the good guy. You need to understand that. I'm always going to carry this bat, and demand things from other groups. Break them down and make them submit to me. I'll be the top fucking dog until the day I die."

   He scooted a few inches closer to me, his Lucille sliding down to the floor as I took a shuddering breath.

   "I spent last night thinking about what you said, and I'm not going to change any of that. But I will change what happens on the top floor for you. If you still want me."

   I was sitting in the truck with a man named Negan, and I was also standing to the precipice of the rest of my life, and I thought carefully about the next step I wanted to take.

   Behind me was security, the ability to know what was safe and right. But ahead...I didn't know. It was murky, and filled with uncertainty, and I heard Father Thomas's words in my mind and my heart.

  _"He'll tempt you, and defile you, and you'll be damned for eternity."_

  _"A gift. A chance for your redemption."_

   Which one was right? 

   Every second that I remained quiet, I saw a little bit of light leave his eyes, and he let go of my hand. 

   Back. Or forward. 

   A soundless exhale pushed warm breath across my face, and he turned to start the truck, but before he could, I made my decision, and I leaned over, twisting his face to mine, kissing him tenderly. I wanted to save him, and in turn, save myself. I wouldn't, couldn't let this beautiful, damaged man be damned. I had to make sure he was redeemed.

   "Let's go home," I whispered into his lips, and he took a deep breath, nuzzling my nose with his. 

   "Yes, ma'am."


	24. No Longer a Consecrated Life

 

   I stood in front of my closet, frowning at my clothing collection. In the grand scheme of things, it didn't matter, but there was nothing that I would deem appropriate for what surely awaited me this evening. 

   Once we'd driven through the Sanctuary gates, Negan gave my hand a squeeze and told me to head upstairs, that he'd see me after dark. There were no kisses or sweet smiles, not with all of his men around, and I'd headed immediately to my room to let the first part of the day sink in. 

   I'd gone on a collection, and picked up something more precious on the way. A commitment from Negan to not sleep with Carolyn or anyone else as long as we were...together. Even now, it didn't feel real, that he'd actually chosen me. The quiet girl. The mousy virgin who spent the first quarter of her life putting herself second. 

   But I knew what I felt, and I knew what he'd felt each time we kissed. It may be mostly physical on his part, but I didn't think so. The man who took the time to get me my favorite meal, or make sure I knew how to hold a gun. Even to punch his oldest friend when he thought I was in danger. It meant something. It had to.

   And now, I was cursing my stupid wardrobe and my boring undergarments. Everything that I owned here was functional or innocent, and I fretted internally about why I even cared. He'd kissed me in a demure dress, and he'd rubbed himself against me wearing his own clothes. 

   With a grumble to no one in particular, I pulled out a blue sundress that hung just below my knees, slipping into it and straightening around my waist, brushing my hair back into place when I was done. It was cheery, and I tried to make my face match the disposition of my clothes, but I didn't quite succeed. I was nervous, and it felt like what I imagined every other girl went through on the night they first slept with someone. 

  Memories of my senior prom popped into my head as I recalled whispered conversations and proclamations in the restroom of our little high school. Girls in beaded dresses and too much makeup planning the loss of their virginity with an almost surgical precision. I would listen, or overhear to be more exact, and wonder to myself how they could be so excited. I didn't go to prom with a date. I had gone with the other boys and girls who'd decorated the school gym in the Garden of Love theme that had been decided by the most popular students.

  While I sat just outside the door collecting tickets and watching the photographer taking posed pictures for posterity, young, horny couples were inside, arms wrapped around each other, dancing to love ballads or hastily choreographed dance songs. I hadn't regretted my choices at the time, but now, faced with certain intimacy with a man whose experiences dwarfed my own, I was working myself up to a major panic attack. 

    _Stop it_ , I mentally willed my own reflection as my eyes caught the pendant that hung from my neck. _He knows what you are, and he doesn't care._

   It worked to a degree, and after a few more personal affirmations, Stuart Smalley-style, I opened my door and walked into the lounge for dinner. 

   Sherry was sitting on the couch with a drink in hand, and Phoebe and Alicia were huddled together, thumbing through magazines that they'd probably read a hundred times over. I sat down next to Sherry, who grunted a possible 'hello', and I leaned back into the cushions of our new seats. They were much more comfortable than the old ones, and I studied at the pictures that hung on the opposite wall. Watercolors that depicted Parisian street scenes. Another experience I would never have. 

   "Do you want to hang out upstairs tonight?" Sherry asked between sips, and I gave her a guilty look in response. "Really?"

   It sounded sad and accepting, and I hugged her, too nervous to actually talk. "You're still my most important person," I whispered, hoping it was enough to reassure her, my heart constricting until she put her arms around me, giving me a quick embrace. This whole experience felt vaguely like being a pawn between two divorced parents, trying to make sure both knew I loved them equally. No favorites.

   "Just...use protection, all right?" came the grumpy voice in my ear, and I turned three different shades of red as she pulled away from me, getting up to refill her glass.

   Dinner arrived twenty minutes later, a large terrine filled with broccoli-cheddar soup and a plate of lasagna, enough to feed an army. I took only a small serving, my stomach already in knots, and Carolyn arrived after we'd all taken our first bites. She was still dressed in her black dress, but she'd toned down on the makeup, giving Sherry an 'are you happy?' look as she sat down stiffly, taking a huge piece of the pasta dish.

   "Carolyn, good to see you," Sherry said genially as Phoebe looked at her curiously. 

   "Mmmhmm," was all Carolyn would utter, keeping her head down, though I saw her clench her knife tightly. When she glanced at me, I raised my eyebrow, and she must've thought back on the night before, because the knife was set down and she speared a piece of lasagna with her fork, eating it quickly. 

   The sun was long gone by the time everyone shuffled off to their rooms, having had no visit from Negan, and I was the last one to leave, glancing at his door before just walking back to my own, feeling a little lost. I shouldn't have been surprised to find a note on my bed, but I was. There were only a few words, and they directed me to his room. 

   Every part of my body felt like it had been dipped in molten lava as I made the shaky trek to his room, knocking twice on the door with trembling hands. The door opened immediately, and I was nearly blown backward by the desire I felt when he came into view. 

   Negan was just out of the shower, his chest still sparkling and wet as he dried his hair, wearing pajama bottoms and only pajama bottoms. He smiled at me, and my stomach turned to jelly. 

   "Are you waiting for an official invitation to come in?" he asked in a husky voice, and I nodded politely until he took me by the hand and jerked me towards him so roughly that I bounced off of his chest, my cheeks coming away with a few drops of water. His towel dropped to the floor as he cupped my face in his hands, kissing me so forcefully that my skin felt scratched when he came up for air. 

   "Did you eat?" I gasped, leaning my forehead against his chest as strong fingers kneaded my shoulders. 

   "I'm only hungry for one thing," he growled, making my knees knock together, and I let out a tremulous breath. He tipped my face up, looking deeply into my eyes. "If this moves too fast, or you don't feel comfortable, you need to tell me, Angel."

   "I will," I promised, my focus drifting down to his bare chest, and those damned dark hairs. Out of nowhere, my courage showed itself, and I placed my palm flat against his chest, pushing him back gently, steering him towards his room. The double doors were already open, and the bed was a straight line from where we were standing. 

   He let me guide him back until his legs brushed up against the mattress, and he wrapped his arms around me, turning me around and setting me on my back, hovering over me with intense brown eyes and flushed lips. 

   "So beautiful," he murmured, making my skin heat up as I waited for something, anything to happen. "Have you been with anyone else?"

   The question sounded innocent, but I knew there was more than just what was on the surface, a need to know how to proceed, and I shook my head. "You were waiting for me," he growled confidently into my ear, and it shook me to my core. Maybe I was, all this time.

   I got lost in his mouth for a while, each probe of his tongue making my stomach clench and my thighs contract, a delicious high that left me dizzy. It took a few strokes for me to realize that he was running his thumb across my right breast, cupping it gently as if he thought I would panic, but my fears were abated for the moment, and I leaned into his touch, brave enough even to trail my hand down his back to the curve of his backside, and he automatically thrust his hips into mine. 

   All I could smell, all I could taste was Negan, and I let myself revel in it, this dangerous human being that was treating me so tenderly, so carefully. Hands that had shed gallons of blood were sliding down my waist to my hips, slowly lifting my dress, and when they lightly skimmed over my panties, he let out a huff into my mouth, breaking contact. 

   Rising to his knees, he glanced down, moaning as I tried to steady my heart. "You're wearing white, cotton panties," he announced like I didn't know, and I felt embarrassed. 

   "It's all I have," I said, thinking he was disappointed since his wives usually wore lacy things, and he smiled with satisfaction. 

   "They're the sexiest fucking things I've ever seen."

   I found that hard to believe, but I could see that he was aroused, and he pulled me into a sitting position so that he could remove my dress, watching me closely to see if I was apprehensive, but I lifted up my arms to assist, wondering deep down where the old me had gone. She'd been tucked away, set aside as the new me waited for the feeling of those black hairs on my skin. She'd been patiently waiting for months.

   Negan was between my legs, and he lowered me back onto the bed, kissing my stomach as I squirmed underneath him, my breath coming faster than I could keep up with, my core beginning to ache with the need to be touched, and I grabbed his face harder than I intended to.

   "Tell me," he said in a pained voice, and I searched desperately for his lips, but he wouldn't kiss me until I spoke, my voice cracking. 

   "I need..."

   "Tell me," he urged, and I whimpered softly. 

   "I need to feel you on top of me," I managed to choke out, and my reward was a warm tongue and a hard stomach that pressed into mine, allowing me to wrap my legs firmly around his waist. Relief shot through me as I finally had what I wanted, and it was like pulling out a splinter, a rush of adrenaline over my accomplishment, getting contact with his body. The new Marie roared in victory.

   It could've been hours, or maybe it was just a few minutes, but I felt rough fingers slipping under those damned cotton panties, brushing my entrance, and I bucked my hips unconsciously, biting down softly on his lips until he pulled away again, leaving me feeling bereft. 

   "I'm going to use my fingers now," he murmured, waiting for my approval and I lifted my hips again as my answer. Slowly, one finger curled up inside me, making my breath hitch in my throat. It felt foreign to me, but not painful, and I adjusted to the sensation as he slowly moved his hand back and forth, kissing my neck. A second finger followed, and I closed my eyes, my fingers digging into his shoulders as I felt him tilt them up, rubbing inside me. 

   Whatever spot he was stroking sent a strong wave of pleasure through my body, and it increased as his thumb began to move in circles on the outside, making me call out his name in a breathy sigh. The pressure began to build in my lower half, a pleasurable pain, increasing in intensity until my very first orgasm overtook me, making my entire body clench around his hand, shuddering as I rode a high that I'd never reached before. White spots exploded behind my eyelids as he ran his tongue across my lips, encouraging me to let go and experience every pulsing bit of what he was doing to me, leaving me near tears as I began to come down.

   When I opened my eyes, he was watching me with half-closed lids, breathing almost as heavily as I was, and I could feel my muscles twitching all over my body. He removed his fingers, and I felt strangely empty, my throat contracting as he played with the top of my panties, leaving a streak of wetness on my hip bone. 

   "We should stop for tonight," he told me, and I shook my head. I needed more. 

   "No," I breathed as his eyebrows rose, a smirk crossing his face. "My Angel is not as pure as I thought," he teased, and I made a face before unhooking my bra, but he stopped me, his face turning serious. "Not tonight."

   "Did I do something wrong? Don't you want me?"

   He chuckled as he crawled back on top of me, kissing me slowly and languidly, pinning my hands next to my head. "I want you so badly that I'm about to fucking explode on your stomach, but this was enough for now. The sight of you calling out my name is going to give me the sweetest goddamned dreams of my life."

   "But-"

   "But, nothing," he said, a frown forming on his lips. _"Not tonight."_

   Stung, I laid there in shock as he rolled off of me and walked with stiff movements to the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. Why was I being rejected again?

   I was overstimulated, and I turned to my side to face the wall as he did whatever the heck he did in there, and I brought my knees to my chest, not caring how awkward I looked. A few tears slipped out of my eyes as the door opened behind me, and the mattress jiggled as he got on behind me after pulling down the covers, spooning me. I struggled weakly until he leaned over to see my face, sighing deeply.

   "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings," he said, running his lips along my jaw as I looked over his head at the ceiling. "Don't you trust me?"

   I glanced at him for a split second before nodding, his thumb wiping away the wetness on my face, and he forcibly turned me towards his chest, pulling me on top of him and placing my arm around his waist and my leg over his hips, his fingers drawing random patterns on my bare back. "Then trust that I'm doing this for a reason. I told you, I'm not going to hurt you. You have to let me set the pace right now."

   Unable to speak, I buried my face in his chest, breathing in and out against his skin before finally placing a kiss on the side of his torso, being rewarded with one on the top of my head. 

   "Sleep, Angel."

   With a shuddering breath, I shut my eyes, listening to the air moving in and out of his lungs, my insides relaxing as I fell asleep. I may have been dreaming, but I could swear that I heard him talking before I completely went under. 

   "...you won't regret giving me your heart..."

   I hope he was right.


	25. The Book of Joshua

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, just a word of warning. My timeline doesn't quite match up to the show right now, because...it just doesn't. Things will happen a little differently, so be warned. Those pesky Alexandrians will make an appearance soon, though.

 

  
   I woke up at first light still in my underwear, with a piece of my hair in my mouth, and loud snoring in my face. Negan still had his arm wrapped around my back, and I blinked slowly as I remembered what had taken place between us the previous night.

   We'd fooled around, and he'd given me my first taste of carnal pleasure, the memories making my face explode with warmth. I felt both embarrassed and happy. But mostly embarrassed, since I'd also been slightly rejected. Again.

   While he continued to saw logs in my ear, I carefully adjusted my face, staring at his naked chest as it moved up and down slowly, and I ran my fingers lightly across the expansive space. He was warm, even in the early morning, and I plucked at his chest hair before bravely sliding my hand down a little lower.

   The muscles underneath his skin were firm, and they tightened beneath my touch as I dared to go even lower, slipping my arm under the silky sheet that covered us both.

   There, I almost reached Valhalla as my fingers grazed over his stomach hair, and I let out a satisfied huff, my bizarre craving having finally been met until a hand came out of nowhere, dragging my wrist back up and I looked up to see Negan watching me with a smirk.

   "Oh, Angel, you _cannot_ start something that we won't be able to finish right now," he said in a sleepy voice as my cheeks burned.

   "Good morning," I muttered and he looked at me expectantly until I kissed him quickly on the lips.

   "Sleep well?"

   "Um...yes," I answered after a slight hesitation, and he let out a snarky laugh.

   "You're still upset," he deduced, and I shrugged my arm free from his grasp.

   "No, I'm not," I insisted, getting to a sitting position and ignoring the chills that went down my spine when he ran a lazy finger across my shoulder blades. "I just don't understand why you stopped me."

   "Last night? Or just now?"

   "Both," I said over my shoulder, getting angry when I saw that he was still grinning. "Don't you care what I want?"

   His smile faltered, and he was upright in a flash, pushing me back down on the mattress and sliding on top of me. "Yes, I do," he said in a clipped tone, but his body nudged mine. "However, the first time we have sex, it's going to hurt, and I want to try to prepare you beforehand."

   I didn't say anything, I just looked up at him before licking my lips, and he sighed as he bent down and kissed my neck. "Tonight, all right?"

   He was making me feel like a desperate woman, and I shut my eyes as the scruff from his stubble moved from my neck to my chin and finally around my mouth.

   "It concerns me that you have me wrapped around you're adorable little finger already," he grumbled as I returned his kiss.

   "Well, I'm sorry for the sacrifice you're making," I grumbled right back, feeling my side being squeezed.

   "The sacrifice I'm making is not doing what I want to do to you," he informed me, and I opened my eyes to see him glaring at me.

   "It feels like something else."

   "Which is?"

   I bit my lip as I tried to get my thoughts in order and he dug his pelvis into mine impatiently.

   "I think a part of you doesn't want to do this because of who I am and how we met. I'm still Sister Marie in your eyes, and if we sleep together, I'd be a totally different person." He frowned as I continued. "I can still be sweet and somewhat innocent, and also a sexual being."

   To demonstrate, I wedged my hand in between our bodies, just brushing against his semi-erection, and he immediately pulled away from me. My eyebrows rose and he climbed off of me with a disgusted sound.

   "Told you," I said, feeling both victorious and frustrated at the same time.

   "We need to get ready to work," he said as he stood up, striding towards the bathroom. "Simon and Dwight are on their way."

   Romance and sex, be damned.

   A little bit angry and a whole lot frustrated, I found my dress laying in a wrinkled heap on the floor at the foot of the bed, and I put it on before leaving without waiting for Negan to return, stomping my way into the hall and back to my room. With a bit more force than was required, I grabbed my jeans and a shirt to shower, shooting Carolyn a dirty look when she came out of the bathroom, smiling sarcastically when she noticed I was still wearing last night's outfit.

   "Moving fast, aren't we?" she asked as I shut the door in her face, hoping it hit her nose.

   Once I was showered and cleaned up, I ventured into the lounge for breakfast, finding both oatmeal and Sherry nursing what appeared to be an epic hangover. Giving her a slight smile, I concentrated on my food until I saw Dwight and Simon walk by, and with a sigh, I followed behind them back to Negan's room, finding him already at the table with a stack papers that he pushed towards my usual spot.

   While they talked about the pickup the day before and a place called Alexandria that they'd found, I transferred my numbers and listened to Negan tell Dwight that he needed this Alexandria place monitored for the next week, wanting to know who came and went an how many people resided there.

   "When the time is right, we're going to introduce ourselves and take a little payback for the shit at the outposts," Negan said in a calm voice, making my head snap up. He glanced at me for a second before turning his attention to his lieutenants. "Have they found the other communities yet?"

   "I don't think so," Dwight mumbled, and I put my head back down, working but not really seeing anything. "I'll follow them on their next excursion outside their walls, see what they know, where they go."

   "Good."

   Simon gave me a smile when I looked up after ten minutes and he cleared his throat.

   "Since the kid did so well yesterday, I was thinking that I'd take her out on a trial run if it's all right with you to that Target that we cleared of walkers last week. See how she does."

   I sat up straight in my chair, running my fingers over my pencil as I looked at Negan hopefully, well aware that the look on his face was inscrutable. He wasn't looking at me like I was his girl. It was a formal evaluation of my skills, and I nearly blanched at the image of the walker that exploded in my face when he'd shot it. A misstep for sure, but I knew I could handle myself. I wanted to prove that I could.

   "Take her with your usual crew," he finally said, and I smiled like I'd just been awarded a million dollars. "Back my sunset."

   Fighting the urge to kiss him on the cheek, I finished my work like a madwoman, earning a chuckle from Simon and I shoved the papers back towards Negan, who didn't look as amused.

   "She'll meet you downstairs in five," he said, ending the meeting, and I got to my feet to head to my room for a hat to wear, but Negan stopped me, dragging me over to the couch and depositing me in the middle as he stood over me. "Are you sure you're ready to go out there without me?"

   "I am," I insisted, looking up at brown eyes and a downturned mouth. "I can do this."

   Negan sat down on the coffee table, grasping my knees in his large hands, and he leaned forward so that we were nose to nose. I automatically placed my hands over his to reassure him, my stomach doing little flips as he kissed me gently on the lips, making the movements more urgent as I slid my hands to his shoulders.

   "You have to trust me, now," I murmured before grasping his cheeks with a smile. "This is what you wanted."

  Stubble brushed across my neck as he pushed me back into the couch, kneeling in front of me. "Stay here. Come back to bed."

   Oh, it was tempting, especially if he was going to let me actually touch him, but I wanted to prove to myself that I could do this without him, that I was worthy of being able to go out to help, and I stood up. His face was brushing against my stomach until he got back to a standing position, and he tugged me over to his desk, handing me his leather jacket.

   "Do not take this off under any circumstances," he ordered me, shoving me towards the door. "And you come straight back to me, Angel."

   I nodded my head as I carried his jacket out the door and down the hall, over to the stairwell and out into the open where Simon was leaning against a grey truck smoking a cigarette. He spied me after a minute, his face hardening when he saw what I was holding, but he didn't comment, instead opening the door for me as I put on the jacket. I snuck a look up, and I could see Negan in the window, watching.

   With a slight wave, I climbed in, finding a knife and a gun waiting for me. Simon got in next to me, and he started the truck with a grunt, pulling out of the already open gates towards our ultimate destination.

   "You sure you're ready, kid?" he asked once we'd left all traces of the Sanctuary behind.

   "I am," I verified, rolling down the window since it was already warm and I was swimming in black leather and musky cologne.

   "I don't just mean this trip."

   "Huh?"

   He let out a sad chuckle, lighting up another cigarette before placing a death grip on the wheel. "I'm not blind, Marie. I know what's going on between you and him."

   "I, uh, really don't feel comfortable talking about this with you," I mumbled, playing with the zipper on Negan's coat. Maybe Negan didn't want him to know anything.

   "I don't care." The words were short and clipped. "You're setting yourself up to be hurt, kid, and I don't want that for you."

   You know, I was getting really fed up with everyone thinking that they knew what was best for me. Sure, I was sheltered, and only just coming to know my new life. But that didn't mean I wasn't capable of making my own decisions.

   "Well, I appreciate the concern. I really do. But I know what I'm doing."

   Simon gave me a sideways glance, and I treated him to a level look. "I've known Negan for a while, kid, and you're too good for him. It sounds harsh, but it's the truth, and I'd say it to his face, believe it or not. It'd probably earn me the iron," he smirked as I faltered slightly, "but I don't want anything to happen to you. He is who he is, and he's never gonna change. Not even for you."

   I twisted my cheek, biting into the corner of my mouth as my stomach began to hurt, a vague feeling of uneasiness permeating the cab along with smoke, and it mixed in with Negan's scent, like it was mocking me.

    The rest of the trip was quiet, two trucks following behind us as he drove at a good clip out of town towards the Target that we needed to reach. When we stopped just after entering the parking lot, he cut the engine, preventing me from leaving by locking the door.

   "Are we still friends?"

   "Yes," I muttered, waiting until he set me free and I snatched up my weapons, stalking away from him towards the other men who'd come along, fighting the urge to tear up.

    _Shake it off, dummy. You have a job to do._

   Three deep, gulping breaths later, I was placed in the middle of the group as we walked in single file towards the entrance to the store, the glass doors already shattered into a thousand pieces. Eight of us stood in a semi-circle with weapons ready as Simon hit his gun against the metal doors.

   A half-dozen walkers came stumbling out, and I'm pretty sure I took down at least one with a gunshot, the adrenaline pumping through my system. I could do this. I know I could.

   After waiting at least five minutes for more, we finally set off, each carrying a lantern and pushing a shopping cart. Simon insisted that I stay with him, and I complied, wanting to follow all orders so that I'd be allowed out again. He led me to the pharmacy, and I stood guard as he hopped over the raised counter to look through the bottles that were left of, tossing me a few which I promptly dropped on the ground.

   Once he'd found everything that was still usable, we moved to the sporting goods sections where we snagged some tents, a few bows complete with arrows, and even more lanterns. Over and over we'd push the buggy back to the entrance, picking up a new one to refill, and it was in the cosmetics aisle that I made my first uncontrolled kill.

   I'd been deemed capable enough to clear out the deodorant aisle myself, stepping around a large overturned shelf when an arm that was half bone and half rubbery skin clamped down on my ankle, sending me sprawling to the floor as I yelped in surprise. A walker, probably an employee judging by the red smock it was wearing, was halfway trapped by the large metal shelf, but that didn't stop it from hanging onto my leg as I tried to shake myself free, hearing Simon's calls from a ways away.

   There was an eerie cracking sound as the top half of the walker broke apart from the bottom half that was still wedged under the debris, and I reached for my knife with slick hands as it tried to bite my foot, its teeth gnawing on my leather boot. Panicked, I stabbed once, hitting it in the neck before making a second attempt, this time getting it in the temple, the knife going through so deeply that the tip hit my shoe.

   The walker stilled immediately, and I kicked it off, my heart ready to make a break for it through my chest. Simon came barreling around the corner with his gun drawn, but I just brought my knees up, resting my elbows on top, the knife falling from my fingers to the floor.

   He yanked me to my feet, checking me over for bites as I stood there woodenly, noticing a throbbing sensation in my ankle.

   "I'm fine," I announced, even though he saw that I was favoring my left leg, and he swept me up without a word, carrying me back to the front of the store like I was a naughty child that had to be taken home for misbehaving in front of everyone. "Simon, I'm okay," I tried again, but he simply kept moving, depositing me back at the truck as I exhaled in frustration. Now I'd probably never be allowed out again.

   "Don't move," he ordered, narrowing his eyes, and I slumped back in the seat, totally defeated. While they worked, I spent the next two hours sitting alone, drinking water and punishing myself for not keeping my eyes trained to what was going on around me. If I had, I would have seen the arm that was sticking out underneath the metal shelving and could've dealt with the problem before I was ever touched.

   Riding back in the truck as the sun started to falter was like riding in a hearse, and after spending the day worrying about myself, I started to brood about Simon, hoping that he wouldn't get into trouble on my account. He'd done nothing wrong, and I didn't want yet another screw up on my part to be held against him.

   The approaching gates of the Sanctuary looked ominous instead of welcoming, and the prospect of seeing Negan didn't fill me with the butterflies that I assumed I'd get.

  Instead, it was ambivalence, and I loitered around the truck, following Simon like an injured puppy until he waved me away after the third time I bumped into his back.

   "Go check in," he said in an annoyed voice, and I could feel his eyes on me as I limped towards the door.

   Dinner was in full swing as I muddled my way through the cafeteria, waving at Derek and Jackie, who gave me a curious glance, and when I looked down, I realized I was still wearing Negan's jacket. Once I hit the stairwell, I took it off, flinging it over my shoulder as I stared up at the daunting task in front of me. Why did he have to live on the top floor?

   Eighty-four very long steps later, I made it to my destination, limping down the hall until I reached the lounge, nearly knocked off my feet to see Negan sitting in there with Phoebe and Alicia, laughing at something. My chest started to burn as I stood there silently, fuming over the sight of him splayed out on one of the couches as the other two were leaning forward, their breasts spilling out of the tops of their black dresses.

   Negan's jacket sailed through the air, landing at his feet, and he looked up quickly, the smile fading from his face as I continued on, going to my room for clean clothes. I was alone for less than ten seconds before my door opened, and he came strolling in casually.

   "What the fuck is your problem?" he asked, sounding completely unconcerned.

   "I don't have a problem." My voice sounded prissy, even to myself as I kept my back to him. "I just wanted to make sure you got your jacket back. You seemed awfully busy."

   A deep chuckle rumbled from his chest to his throat and out of his mouth as I bent down to pull out a fresh pair of pants and a shirt.

  "There's no need to be jealous, Angel. We were just talking."

    _Yeah, right_. I'm pretty sure I would've gotten much worse treatment if he'd come home after a long day and found me joking and laughing with Charlie, but whatever.

   I fished out a new pair of panties before limping towards the door, and his demeanor changed. He refused to let me edge my way around him, holding up his hand as he waited for me to look at him.

   "What happened?" he asked flatly as I shrugged.

   "Got tripped by a walker, but I'm fine."

   "For fuck's sake," he muttered, picking me up and carrying me towards his room as I struggled to get myself free. That was twice in the last few hours that some stupid man felt necessary to treat me like a damsel in distress and I was over it.

   "I'm fine," I hissed, trying to push myself out of his arms, but he tightened his hold painfully, locking me in a vice grip as he pushed his door open, setting me none too gently on his bed with loud curse words.

   Negan stomped into the bathroom, and I heard the water being turned on as I tossed my clothes onto his bed, folding my arms across my chest, stewing over both the crappy start to my day and the equally crappy end to it. As the water warmed up, he came back out and knelt down in front of me, taking off my left boot and then my right, his thumbs testing my ankle as I winced.

   "It's just a sprain," I offered, shutting my mouth when he glared at me.

   "I fucking told that dickhead to keep an eye on you."

   "He did." I got to my feet, pushing him away from me as I hobbled to the bathroom, not wanting to be treated like an invalid. It was just a freaking sprain, and I shut the door behind me, pressing the lock after hearing another door slam loud enough to shake the walls.

   My second shower of the day felt good, and I cleansed myself balancing mostly on one leg, not even noticing that there were different body washes and shampoos, all smelling girly and sweet. Breathing deeply, I turned off the water, pondering what kind of trouble I was going to be in for my little outburst, and I wrapped a big, fluffy towel around my body, limping back into his bedroom to find Negan sitting on the bed with an icepack.

   He patted the spot next to him, and I sat down stiffly until he pulled my leg onto his lap, resting the cold compress on my ankle. His head was down and his posture was unwelcoming even though I touched him gently on the shoulder, earning a cool look.

   "I killed it," I said. "The walker."

   "Do you want a medal?"

   "Kind of," I replied, tired of the tension between us, and his mouth twitched briefly. "I'm pretty proud of myself."

   "You're proud of this?" he said in a disbelieving tone, nodding to my ankle.

   "Yep. I could've not come back at all, you know."

   A grumble escaped his throat as my eyebrows rose, and I felt cold fingers skitter up my leg to my knee. "You know, you're not really making a case for yourself, Angel. I have half a mind to not let you ever set foot outside these walls again."

   His thumb massaged the outside of my leg, and the tingles returned to my lower torso, muted only by the remembrance of him sitting and laughing with two of his wives, and I let out a sigh before flopping onto my back.

   "Are you going to fling shit at my head every time I talk to another woman?"

   He turned himself to the side, perching next to me as I squinted at the ceiling. Probably, I thought to myself.

   "Do you remember what happened when you walked into the cafeteria and saw me holding hands with Charlie?"

   "It's not the same."

   "Do you remember how you felt? Supposedly?"

   There was no response, but he inched himself closer to me, and I became very aware that I was only wearing a towel, my skin still damp from the shower and brown eyes gazing down at my hand still clenching the fluffy material to my chest.

   "Angel, I told you I'd honor your request, and I meant it. I was just talking to them."

   "I know."

   "Do you?" he pressed, his hand moving up my leg to my upper thigh, and I let out a shaky exhale. Rough fingers inched their way under my towel, curving around my backside as he kneaded the skin, causing my stomach to contract painfully. If he was teasing me again, I was going to call it quits forever. Whatever he'd awakened in me, it was out of its cage and demanding to be fed, ripping my demureness to shreds and feasting on my decorum.

   My hand released the material that separated us, and I turned to my side, letting it fall away, taking note of the spark of desire in his eyes, and I cupped his face, running my fingers over his cheeks until he bent down to kiss me, forcing his way into my mouth the same way I wanted him to invade the rest of my body.

   That's as far as we got, because just as I moaned into his mouth, someone knocked very roughly on the door, breaking us apart.

   "I'm never going to have sex," I whimpered as he laughed into my throat, covering me back up with the towel and setting my leg carefully onto the bed with the ice.

   Adjusting himself, he walked out of the bedroom, shutting the door so that whoever was interrupting us couldn't see me in flagrante delicto.

   He was back in less than a minute looking angry, and he handed me my clothes with a quick kiss. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

   "Is something wrong?"

   "I have a situation I need to fucking deal with. Just eat in the lounge and I'll see you soon."

   That's it. All the explanation I got as he left, slamming the door, and I dressed hastily, trying to come up with a name for whatever the female version of blue balls was.


	26. The Forsaken Vow

 

  
   "Well?"

   I blinked nervously as Sherry watched me over the top of her glass, her laser stare boring into me.

   "Well, what?"

   "Have you slept with Negan yet?" she asked, her eyebrow rising as I shifted in my seat.

   "No."

   She seemed surprised, and she took a quick drink before switching seats so that she was right next to me, and I twirled my hair around my finger, avoiding her stare. "It's not because of me," I added in a sullen voice.

   "He's held off? I find that really hard to believe."

   "Well, he has," I snapped, feeling irritated and unsure that I wanted to talk about it, especially since she was so against it in the first place. She snickered, and I shot her a dirty look. I knew that girls gossiped and talked about their sex lives with their friends, but I had no experience with this and still no sex life to speak of.

   "That's...good, I guess," she said lamely. "It means he's taking this seriously."

   "Sherry, I feel bad enough already, could you at least try not to make it worse?"

   "I'm sorry," she said, and I'll give her credit that she sounded genuine.

   "He still thinks of me as a virginal nun," I sighed, taking a sip of her wine and wrinkling my nose. It was strong. "I get it, but I've grown and changed, and I'm ready for this."

   It wasn't what she wanted to hear, but she patted me on the shoulder, regardless. "Listen, I know you're not stupid, just inexperienced. Did you have any questions?"

   Now, I wanted to die, and my face turned red as I glared down at my hands, tapping my nails on the glass top of the roof table. I had tons, but I couldn't work up the courage to ask any of them. "It's going to hurt the first time, right?" I managed to spit out.

   "Yes, it will. And Negan is...large."

   Okay, now we'd hit upon the first snag. I was actually sitting her discussing sex with someone who'd already slept with him. But I tried to tell myself that it hadn't meant anything to her. A simple means to an end. A way to keep Dwight safe.

   "I know this is awkward, talking about this with me when I've, had relations with him, for lack of a better term, but believe me, I don't like him. I never have," she said, reaching out to take my hand firmly in hers. "Do I wish you didn't like him? Hell yes. But you're my friend and I want you to be happy, even if it's with him. Even if you don't end up leaving."

   The ball of guilt in my gut seemed to harden instantly, and I felt my eyes begin to burn. "I don't want to like him, Sherry. I just do. He's...sweet to me when no one else is around. He treats me nicely, minus a few incidents, and I think he cares about me. I know there's probably no future there, since everyone and their mother feels compelled to point it out to me." Her face dropped but her hold on my hand tightened. "I feel like this is right. Right here and right now. For me."

   "I'm sorry," she said, setting her drink down and turning my shoulders so that I was facing her, and she used her free hand to wipe my tears away. "I'm trying to be supportive, I really am. I know this is hard for you, and I'll still be here for you, no matter what."

   The guilt ball didn't disappear, but it shrunk slightly as I leaned over to hug her. She was a good person stuck in a bad situation, mostly because of Negan. Yet it still didn't change what I felt in that moment. I still wanted him. But I also didn't want her to be stuck here forever. I had to get my rear in gear and figure out a way to get her free.

   "Let him lead you," she whispered into my ear. "He'll be gentle with you, and after a while, it gets better."

   I sighed into her neck before breaking apart with a watery smile.

   "I think I figured out a way for you to get out," I said in a soft voice, watching as her face dropped before she covered it up with a smile. Because I said 'you' and not 'us'.

   Her eyes flickered over to the door before she patted me on the shoulder, standing up. "Tell me later." It was merely a whisper, and when I followed her movements, I saw why. Negan was making his way over to the table.

   She got up without a word to him, but he didn't seem to mind since his eyes were on me, and I gave him a smile. He noticed that I'd been crying, and he sat down in the seat Sherry had just vacated. "What's wrong?"

   "Nothing. I'm fine. Just some girl talk."

   "Girl talk? Like nail polish and shit?"

   I rolled my eyes with a grimace. Because that's all females could talk about. "Actually, we were discussing whether or not Nietzsche's documented mental illness could've affected his works and how," I said shortly, and he laughed.

   "And your opinion is?" he challenged.

   "I'm undecided."

   "You're fucking adorable," he said, brushing my hair off of my shoulder as I slumped back in my seat, pulling my ankle off of the other chair that I'd been resting it on. It was still throbbing, but not as bad since I'd taken some painkillers and let Sherry wrap it up.

   "Is your situation taken care of?" I asked politely as he stared off into space, his eyes clouding over.

   "Mmmhmm."

   I waited for an explanation, but he didn't get the hint, so I crossed my arms to wait. When he finally came back to himself, he grumbled under his breath. "Someone got caught stealing."

   "Oh."

   "They've been dealt with," he muttered, but he didn't sound happy about it, and I wondered how many fingers the thief lost. I knew that was one of his rules, and it was non-negotiable. We'd had a heated discussion about it shortly after I 'arrived', and he'd very smugly reminded me of the Bible's stance on an eye for an eye. I'd argued that stealing bread wasn't serious enough to lose a body part, to no avail. Since I didn't feel like discussing it again, I changed tactics.

   "So, does that mean you're free for the rest of the evening?"

   He smiled, licking his lower lip as he got to his feet. "What did you have in mind, Angel?"

   My chest got hot as he waited for me to say it, and I, of course, chickened out, taking another route. "Some music. Some drinks? See where the night takes us?"

   He got to his feet, helping me up, and I shivered when his arms went around me, pulling me into his warm chest. When I tilted my head up, he kissed me slowly, his hold on my tightening, and I leaned into him, getting swept up in the sensation. His lips were soft compared to the roughness of his beard, and his tongue was warm as it found its way into my mouth, exploring it as I felt my bones start to soften, my skin bubbling with heat.

   Loud giggles broke us apart, and I turned to see that Phoebe and Alicia were standing in the doorway holding drinks, watching us with enraptured expressions. "That was hot!" Alicia shouted as Phoebe poked the brunette on the side, sending my face into Negan's chest, mortified. He kept an arm around my shoulder, helping me towards the door since I was still limping slightly.

   Phoebe gave me a conciliatory smile as I passed by, bumping me in the arm before dragging Alicia with her to the table, and I heard the cd player switch on, blaring out some dance song.

   "That was so embarrassing," I muttered as Negan pulled me to a stop.

   "Are you ashamed of being seen kissing the man in black?" he asked as I glanced up to see that he honestly looked hurt.

   "No," I said quickly. "I just don't want my personal business out there for everyone to see."

   He didn't look convinced, and I reached up to brush my hand through his messy hair, feeling like a jerk. It wasn't fair for me to want to keep it private if I really liked him, but something told me that it would only be better for me if fewer people knew about it. "I'm not ashamed, Negan. I'm just new to this relationship thing, if that's what we're doing. Remember? Former nun?" I pointed at myself in case he didn't know who I was referring to, and he seemed to accept that.

   The rest of the trip down to his floor was quiet and slightly tense, but he directed me towards his room, opening the door. After he let me go, I hobbled over to the couch, sitting down with a grunt, propping my foot up on the coffee table as he went to his little bar, fixing himself a drink. I was given nothing, but he did call down on his radio to find me something 'girly', which I ignored.

   The evening got better when he sat down next to me after popping in a Double Trouble cd, the bluesy music playing at just the right volume, pulling my legs onto his lap as we talked about our day. I told him all about my Target trip, glossing over the walker incident, but he saw how happy I was to have been able to get out of the compound, and he bored me with trivial stuff about his collection at a smaller community. Thankfully, they had everything that he had requested, so no one got into trouble.

   A quiet, nervous girl knocked on the door twenty minutes later, carrying a tray with some sort of alcoholic punch, and she set it down with shaking hands, nearly spilling it as Negan gave her the evil eye, while I thanked her with a smile. She glanced at us with twitchy movements until he finally dismissed her with a smirk, and I poked him in the stomach once the door closed.

   "Do you really enjoy making people so nervous that they might wet themselves?"

   "Yes," he said, handing me a drink. "It keeps them from getting lofty aspirations, like running this fucking place."

   "That girl has aspirations of running this place?" I asked doubtfully, and he smirked as he rubbed my shin.

   "No, she offered herself to me when she was first brought here."

   "Oh, so only one mousy girl on the top floor at a time," I joked, and his hands closed painfully on my legs as I grimaced. "I was just kidding."

   "No you weren't," he snapped, jerking my legs off of him. "Stop that shit. I'm not going to tell you again."

   He stood up and went over to the music, pressing the button to stop the cd and pulled it out roughly as I turned pink. "While I'm willing to admit that I had a certain impression of you when we first met, I never thought that you were mousy." He turned around, and I saw that his cheeks were flushed almost as much as mine. "I may have underestimated you, but I also wanted to throw you over my shoulder and cart your little ass back here to my room."

   My mouth dropped open, and he took a few steps towards the couch so that he was standing over me. "Didn't you wonder why I got pissed when I found you wearing makeup? Turning yourself into one of my wives?"

   The thought occurred to me to argue that I wasn't, I was just trying to fit in and form a bond with Amber and Sherry, but I kept my mouth shut. Instead, I just shook my head.

   Negan leaned down so that we were face to face, and he held my chin between his fingers so that I would have to keep looking at him. "Because I don't want you to be like them. You're perfect the way you are. That's what I like about you. You're not some easy broad that's just looking for a free ride."

   It became hard to swallow around the lump in my throat, and his hold softened as he kissed me softly. "Don't be like them. Be you, Angel."

   I wanted to be me. I did. But I also wanted to be a better me. One that didn't feel like a silly girl, a naive simpleton who had to scheme and plot to get this beautiful man to sleep with me, and I reached around him to gulp down the sickly sweet punch. It was laced with vodka, and I stopped myself after a few swallows, knowing he definitely wouldn't do anything with me if I was drunk, putting back on the tray as he watched silently.

   Putting myself out there once again, I took him by the back of his neck, kissing his lips before edging my way down his neck, my heart speeding up as I felt his hands grip my shoulders, and I sucked tenderly on the skin, inhaling the scent of whiskey and cologne, moving down to his collarbone when he stopped me. I thought he was going to put the kibosh on the whole seduction scene I was trying to institute, but he hefted me to my feet before hoisting me up into his arms and carrying me to the bedroom.

   I had two distinct thoughts as I melted onto my back. The first was, _Hallelujah, it's finally happening_. The second was, _Oh, crap, it's finally happening_.

   Once again in uncharted territory, I let him set the pace like he wanted, losing myself in his skilled touches, fingers sliding underneath my shirt but above my bra, caressing them slowly. My eyes remained shut as I wrapped my legs around his waist, kissing him blindly with a whimper, my own hands finding the button on his pants. He hesitated only briefly, but he didn't stop me, and I loosened them before unzipping them, my palm cupping him as he squeezed me harder.

   "Look at me," he whispered, and I tried to focus as he backed off of the bed and stepped out of his pants, his bulge making my mouth water. His shirt came next, and I was struck by just how sexy he was without even trying. The man was sensual in everything he did, and he lowered his briefs, letting me see him completely nude for the first time.

   It was only the third naked man I'd ever seen. Father Thomas and the nude model in my college art class were my only other exposure, and he left them in the dust, obviously as I bit my lip.

   He crooked his finger at me, and I sat up, lifting my arms up the same way I did the night before, my shirt coming off easily. My pants were tugged down after I lifted up my hips, leaving me only in my bra and panties and a body that was covered in a slight blush, making him smile as he crawled back on top of me with a predatory grin.

   "Thoughts?" he asked as he nibbled on my ear, and I tried to think of something, anything, but I only let out a shaky breath as I ran my hand down his stomach, touching him for the first time.

   "Tell me what you like," I managed to utter as my fingers closed around his hard shaft, my first thought that it felt both hard and soft, the warm, smooth skin pulsing in my touch as I moved my hand uncertainly up and down.

   "Fucking hell, Angel," he growled, and I let him go, thinking that I did something wrong. "Don't stop," he barked, and I resumed my motions as he reached underneath me to remove my bra, his mouth clamping down on my nipple, sending a shocking electric pulse through my body and a moan out of my lips.

   Our arms battled for position as he fondled me through my panties, arousal and fear warring for control of my system and I let him go to take off the cotton material, allowing him unrestricted access to my body. Any other time, I probably would've felt self-conscious that he could see me completely, especially if I compared myself to his wives, but my poor overloaded brain couldn't override my desire, and he inserted two fingers as he moved to my other breast.

   Spontaneous human combustion. I was mere seconds from it as I tried to guide him myself into me, but he lifted his head, shaking it. "Not yet."

   I resorted to begging. "Please, Negan," I said, practically in tears. "I need you."

   He added a third finger, and I gasped as he moved them around, trying to stretch me out before doing the deed, and I bit at his shoulder, my teeth nearly breaking the skin while he worked me with both fingers and his thumb again on my core. Too far gone, I came around his hand, my muscles clenching in a rhythm while he continued to stroke my insides, and I threw my head back in ecstasy, letting the waves rock my body.

   Out of breath, I opened my eyes to see that he had positioned himself between my legs, watching me closely, and I nodded for him to do it. Gently, he rubbed his head against my entrance, easing it in just an inch, and I knew this was going to be much different than his fingers. Each simple thrust filled me up and made my hips ache, and I let out a gasp as he reached the hilt, his body pressing against mine.

   It stung, and I inhaled through my nose as he kept completely still, brushing my face with his fingers. "Tell me when you're ready."

   The pain leveled off, and I nodded, stroking the back of his neck as he began to move in and out. Yes, it hurt. But it also felt right, like I was meant to endure it. The pain that signaled the complete shedding of my old self, and I began to move my hips with him as he buried his head in my neck.

   His movements sped up after a few minutes, and I breathed steadily through the pain, knowing that it would only get better, my legs locking themselves around his waist as he muttered fractured words in my ear. "So tight...so good," he repeated over and over, and I ran my tongue along his neck, tasting salty sweat and satisfaction.

   As he got close, his thrusts sped up until he pulled himself out, spilling all over my stomach, his eyes closed in gratification, his hand jerking at top speed to completion, and I lay panting as sticky warmth hit the skin where he'd just lain, watching the fluid in a weird fascination as it pooled near my belly button.

   He slumped over me to catch his breath, and I ran my nails along his back while he recovered, enjoying his weight on my body until he raised himself up on his elbows. "I forgot to put on a fucking condom. Sorry."

   "No damage was done," I breathed as he kissed me with lazy movements, his tongue tracing my lips.

   "Are you feeling okay?"

   "I feel good," I smiled into his neck. Sore, but good. Better than good. I felt like I was his. "Well, thanks. I'm gonna go now."

   "What?" His head rose up, and he looked at me like I was a stranger.

   "Well, I got in your pants, which is what I wanted," I said with a straight face. "I don't really need anything else, so I'll head back to my room." Pushing him off of me, I made it to a sitting position before he dragged me back down, pushing his leg between mine and rubbing his thumb across my right breast.

   "Fucking hilarious," he muttered as I patted him condescendingly on the cheek. "Get your ass in the shower."

   "So, are we done for the night?"

   "You should be so lucky, Angel. You wanted me, and now you got me. I'm not that easily satisfied."

   My face dropped as he realized how it came across to me, and he amended his words with a grin. "I meant, I want more, you little fucking minx."

   "Was it...enjoyable for you? I know you're used to women with, uh, more experience than I have," I asked, my teeth digging into my lip.

   "Yes, it was enjoyable. Your stomach shows the proof, baby."

   "Gross."

   He let me up, following me to the bathroom with a hand placed firmly on my backside. I noticed that my thighs were sore, and my insides felt tender, but one look at his nude form made all the difference, and I wrapped my arms around him after he started the water, anxious for round two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Marie has finally turned in her V-card. Will she regret it??


	27. The Moses Attempt

 

   My days and nights were so busy that I barely had any time to sleep. Between my book work and extra intensive training with Simon, I was shaping up into a darned fine soldier. I'd graduated from basic weapons training to assault rifles, and I found that I had a knack for it. I wasn't going to ever be a sharpshooter, but I could hold my own, especially when placed in a group. So well, in fact, that I was able to go out and help with a stray herd of walkers that had grouped themselves just outside the Sanctuary.

   Aside from that, I had been able to engage in a few private conversations with Dwight, and he admitted to me that he wanted to leave with Sherry, which sent her into near hysterics when I told her, since he hadn't had the courage to do so himself. So when Negan went out with Simon on a return trip to Honeywell, I'd arranged for a clandestine meeting between the two in the bowels of the factory while I stood guard outside the basement apartment.

   Joey, one of Negan's sweeter, simpler Saviors had wandered by, thinking I was lost, and I let him ferry me back up to the cafeteria while I entertained him with some pastries that I bought from the marketplace. He was a nice guy, if a bit skittish, not that I had much room to talk, but he sat there happily stuffing his face until I saw Sherry reappear and sneak up the steps. I stayed with him until he was done, and I waved goodbye before I went up to check on her.

   She was curled up on her bed crying, but they were happy ones, and she told me that they'd had one of the best talks they'd ever had. "He still loves me," she said in a whispery voice.

   "Well, of course, he does."

   "No, I mean, he loves me, and he doesn't hate me for what I did. He blames himself."

   "Sherry, there's no blame to be had," I said, curling up behind her and stroking her hair. "You did what had to be done, and you're both still here. You've got a chance for a new, fresh start."

   She sniffled loudly before turning around. "He wants to just take off. Now. But I told him you might have a plan."

   "It's a strange one, but I think that's why it'll work," I said, taking a deep breath. "Negan's close to making contact with this Alexandria place."

   "And?"

   "Well, Simon said that they sometimes roll right up to the gates of a new community unexpected, but that's a risk. So, they prefer to get a group of new people out in the open. Surround them and then take out one or two to show how serious they are. They tell them that they have their home completely cased out, and they'll pretty much blow them off the face of the earth if they don't fall in line."

   Sherry closed her eyes in disgust. "That sounds about right."

   "So, my thought is, when Negan and the rest of the Saviors here leave to put their plan into action, Dwight can conveniently be 'sick'. There's no way Negan will take him along. You know he hates showing any sort of weakness," I said with reasonable confidence and a tiny tingle of guilt that I was trying to usurp a man that I cared about.

   "Marie, unless Negan sees Dwight is actually sick, there's no way in hell that he'll let him stay behind," she said doubtfully, and I shrugged.

   "He _will_ be sick. That's my point."

   "How?"

   "We're going to make him sick on purpose," I replied, climbing off of her bed and jogging to my room, returning a few seconds later with a book under my arm. I flipped open to a page that I'd carefully marked, showing it to her.

   "Bloodroot?" She looked confused. "What does it do?"

   "It induces vomiting," I showed her, pointing to the text that had caught my eye. "We just have to get some, and then you mix it with water. After that," I mimed throwing up with a theatrical sound. "I'm going to go talk to Charlie to see if he has any, and if he doesn't, I'll pay him in points to get me some."

   She didn't look convinced, but I thought my plan was pretty awesome.

   "Once everyone's gone, we'll give it an hour or two, and Dwight can pretend that he's better and that he's going to meet up with the rest of the Saviors. And off you two go."

   "Yeah, but there's no way he's going to be able to just stroll out of here with me in tow," she reminded me, and I got back off of the bed with a grumble, taking the book back to my room. When I came back, I pulled her to her feet and dragged her back down the steps through the factory to the one place she'd never shown me on my first tour.

   We wound around a few halls on the main floor before we ended up in a dimly lit one that only led one way. We walked on soft steps to the metal door, and I pushed it open slowly so that it didn't make a sound.

   "This leads to the factory garage, where all of the trucks are kept," I whispered as she tried to pull me back, but I steered her forward, creeping behind the tall shelves that were full of auto parts. There were only a few men working in the huge area, and I pointed to the half-dozen delivery trucks that were parked in sets of two. "You're going to hide in one of these, and Dwight's going to drive you out of here."

   I studied her face as she watched the men moving back and forth, and she seemed both hopeful and scared. "We'll practice, Sherry. We'll do dry runs from now until go-time, starting tonight," I murmured, tiptoeing back to the door. "This door is never locked because the garage doors are. But they'll be open when you guys leave."

   She didn't talk as we made our way back to the cafeteria, but when I left her at the stairwell again, she pulled me into a crushing hug. "Do you think it will work?"

   "I've already started putting stuff aside for you. Dwight just needs to get some weapons, but go look in my closet."

   Sherry rushed up the steps faster than I'd ever seen her move before, and I stood there lost in thought for a few moments until I heard the sounds of trucks arriving. While I'd been formulating my plan, I'd found out Charlie's schedule, and I knew that he'd gone out with the last group collection, so I headed for the door, trying to look like I was meandering around as I watched for him.

   God was on my side as I stood there, because Negan wasn't with the group that had returned, and I saw him as he finished unloading one of the pickup trucks. When he noticed me there, I gave him a friendly wave, making him turn around to see who I was directing it towards. Once it dawned on him that I was definitely looking at him, he gave me an apprehensive smile before walking over, double checking to make sure that Negan wasn't around.

   "Hey, stranger," he said in a friendly tone, and I felt a little smattering of sadness for could've been, and what never was.

   "Hi, Charlie," I replied warmly. "How've you been?"

   "Great," he answered, keeping pace with me as I turned to walk back in the building, hyper-aware that anyone could tell Negan that they'd seen me talking to him, and he was kind enough not to stop as I headed for the hallway where it was a little more private. "Is there something I can do for you?"

   "Actually, yes. I was wondering if you had any bloodroot?"

   He gave me a peculiar glance, and I shrugged good-naturedly. He knew what it did, of course. "There's a girl upstairs that sometimes does some things she shouldn't, and Negan would be angry if he found out. I don't want to get her into trouble, I just want to be prepared in case things get out of hand."

   "I don't know, Marie," he began, but I placed my hand firmly on his arm, surprising him.

   "I really need it, Charlie. It's important to me that nothing bad happens to her. She's a good girl that's just having a hard time right now."

   He seemed to be having an internal debate, and after a moment, he nodded, motioning for me to follow him, so I did. His room was on the fourth floor, and I stood just inside his open door while he rooted around through his supplies, coming up with a tiny bottle that looked like it was filled with red-splotched dirt.

   Charlie handed to me along with a sheet of paper that he'd quickly written directions on, and I stuffed them both into my pocket, my heart speeding up slightly as he hovered next to me.

   "How many points?" I asked quietly, but he only smiled his sweet, gentle smile.

   "None for you."

   I tried to argue, but it didn't do any good. He wasn't going to charge me, and I felt a sense of nostalgia for the kind man with the brown doe eyes. "Thank you, Charlie. For everything." I meant it from the bottom of my heart.

   "I...hope you're happy, Marie. I really do."

   Fighting the urge to kiss his cheek, I gave him a small smile before walking down the hall, my stomach tingling. I don't know why, but maybe it was because he'd started the journey to who I was now, and I still wasn't completely sure it was the right thing. But by the time I got to the top floor, I'd managed to shake it off, and I went into Sherry's room without knocking to find her pacing around the room with a cigarette hanging out of her mouth.

   I produced the vial and the directions, and I saw her eyes start to water, but I was having none of it. "There's a condition to this," I warned her and she eyed me warily. "You've gotta quit with the drinking and smoking. I mean it."

   "Why?"

   "Seriously?" I snapped. "Because you need to be ready to go at any minute. This could happen tomorrow, for Pete's sake. If you're going out into the world, you need to be at your best. Enough is enough, Sherry."

   She said something under her breath, but she put the cigarette out, and she opened one of her drawers, handing me the rest of her packs, which I crushed in my hands and dropped into the garbage.

   "Set your alarm for three, and meet me at the stairs tonight," I said before going to get a shower.

   I went into the wives bathroom, even though I could've gone to Negan's, and I stood underneath the warm water for a while, saying a prayer that my plan worked out. When I'd gotten the idea, I almost felt like it was divine intervention. Sherry wasn't meant to be here, I knew it in my bones. She needed to leave, and though I wasn't going to go with her, I just had to make sure she made it. Something told me that it was meant to be, and I assumed it was God speaking to me in the indirect ways that he had since I'd given my life over to him. And if he was still speaking to me, it meant that he hadn't forsaken me for the choices I'd made.

   I was cleaned and primped, laying on my bed when my door opened and a large body pinned me down on my stomach, stubble tickling my bare arm as Negan ran his face up and down on it.

   "Who is this?" I teased since my eyes were closed, and I jerked when he tickled my sides.

   "You're fucking hilarious," he growled as I laughed.

   "I think so."

   "Why aren't you laying on my bed spread-eagled and waiting for me?"

   "Because I didn't know when you were getting back," I groaned, his weight making me unable to take a deep breath, and I elbowed him lightly to get him to move.

   My days were overloaded with training, but my nights were for other lessons, ones I also thought I excelled in. Not only was I learning more about Negan and what made him the man he was, I was also acquiring knowledge about what he liked, what made him happy. He'd allowed me unrestricted access to his body, and I made the most of it.

   I'd studied him from head to toe and every spot in between. From his muscular calves and the small scar behind his right knee to the quarter-sized patch on the back of his left thigh that had no hair, an area that had been burnt when he was a teenager by an exhaust pipe from a motorcycle.

   I'd kissed and licked every inch of him, becoming more confident with every moan and orgasm, fighting my own natural instinct to recoil from his demands, whether they were gentle or not. His chest, his stomach, all of it was a fascinating topography to me, and I also began to find my own pleasure as I got more comfortable in my own skin.

   Negan was insatiable, a fact I'd known from months of listening to his lovemaking with Carolyn, but now it was all focused on me, and I'd begun to crave it, even now as he loomed on top of me, smelling like walkers and sweat, and when he beckoned me to his room, I followed him like he'd been playing a siren song, joining him in the shower even though I'd just had my own.

   I knelt under the spray, giving him pleasure as he dug his fingers in my hair only to end up having sex with him twice in his bed, sliding on top of him with slick skin, his fingers leaving bruises on my hips. Nothing gave me a high like seeing him watching me with blazing eyes and moaning because of what I did. He was my addiction, and I had no chance. I was too far gone at this point to want to stop, and as I came down from my own orgasm, I slumped on top of him, laying my head on his shoulder, unable to move.

   We both ended up falling asleep, and I woke up a few hours later with a panicked feeling, thinking I had missed my rendezvous with Sherry, but it was only eleven o'clock. As carefully as I could, I eased myself off of the bed, carrying my clothes with me towards his office.

   "Sneaking out somewhere, Angel?"

   I jumped as his sleepy voice carried to me, and I doubled back, perching on the edge of his bed as I slid my shirt on, bringing it down over his hand as he traced his fingers along my side.

   "I'm not sneaking," I whispered into the dark, feeling for his face and giving him a long kiss. "I forgot that I was supposed to hang out with Sherry, tonight. I've been blowing her off, and she's feeling lonely."

   "So, you're leaving me here all alone in this big bed?"

   He didn't sound angry, but there was a little edge to his voice, and I kissed his neck, nibbling lightly at the skin. "I'll come back if you want."

   "Do you want?"

   "I do," I said, running my hand down his chest affectionately, hoping that he couldn't feel my heart speeding up since it was from fear and not because of him. "If I'm late, I'll try to be quiet, sweetie."

   He stiffened at my touch, and I thought that he knew something was up. "Sweetie, huh?"

   "Would you prefer another term of endearment?" I asked curiously since it was the first time I'd ever called him that. I said it without thinking, and maybe he was not at that point yet.

   He let out a rough laugh. "Would you consider calling me your sexual overlord and master?"

   "Yeah, that's a thinker," I teased, yanking at some of his chest hair before I got up and put on my jeans. "I'll be back soon, master."

   I rolled my eyes, but he couldn't see it, and I shut the doors to his room before sneaking out. To further the appearance that we were going to be hanging out, I went right to her room. She was wide awake and nervous, so I laid on the bed tiredly to watch her run herself ragged until it was time to go.

   At just before three, I opened the door and peeked out, deliriously happy that Negan's door was shut and no light was on. Waving silently to Sherry, we snuck down to the stairwells to make our trial run. Hopefully, it would go well.


	28. The Sins of the Father

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please be advised that there are references to past abuse and traumas, so if this bothers you, feel free to skip this chapter.

   "Trouble in paradise?"

   I glared at Carolyn as she wobbled towards me in her stupid high heels, her hips swaying back and forth in a rhythmic fluidity. She sat down across from me, crossing her legs as she grinned at me, playing with her hair while I tried to ignore her. She couldn't get kicked off of the top floor fast enough, and I wanted to get it overwith before Sherry was gone for good, leaving me alone here.

   Not alone. I still had Negan, technically, but we hadn't spoken in two days, having our first fight since we started sleeping together, and Carolyn was eating up the tension like it was the most decadent dessert. I'd spent both nights in my room in misery, stewing over his malicious attitude after he'd made the observation that Carolyn had magically backed off of her pursuit of him, never even attempting to try to sleep with him.

   "Why is that a problem?" I'd snapped, watching him as his index finger swirled slowly around the top of his glass, his eyebrows raising slightly. 

   "I just find it odd, you know?" he'd said in a silky voice. "Carolyn was never one for losing."

   Right, because he was the ultimate prize, and I'd snorted to myself. "Well, you're more than welcome to go back to sleeping with her. Just move me downstairs."

   "That's not what I said I wanted." But there was a gleam in his eyes like he was enjoying my jealousy, and I wasn't having it. I refused to be sucked into a competition for his affection, to prove that I wanted him more, especially since he didn't know where her true allegiances were lying. 

   "Then why did you bring it up? What sort of response were you hoping for from me?"

   His voice was lazy when he spoke again. "I'm sure you have your own theories since you spend time with my wives. I want to know what you think. Why would she back off for no reason?"

   I got to my feet, starting for the door. "If you wanna know, why don't you just ask her yourself?"

   "Don't fucking walk away from me," he bellowed out of nowhere, slowing down my pace but not stopping it completely. But before I could open the door all the way, it was slammed back in place by a large hand, and I jumped slightly. "Don't ever walk away from me when I'm talking to you."

   "You're not talking to me," I said, feeling my face heat up as he looked at me disdainfully. "You're lamenting the fact that you're whore wife hasn't hit on you, and I don't want to hear it. Whatever your problem is, you can deal with it yourself. If you want to go back to screwing Carolyn, go right ahead."

   "Is that what you want?"

   "You brought her up, not me," I screeched, filled with unexpected emotion, balling my hands into fists. "You walked in here in a crappy mood, and I didn't say anything. You didn't talk to me all through dinner, and I didn't say anything. If you're looking for a fight, look elsewhere. In fact, you might as well look elsewhere for an outlet to all of your frustrations since I don't seem to be enough for you."

   The look on his face was vicious, and it struck something in me, reminding me of something so long ago that I couldn't put my finger on it.

   I yanked at the door, and this time he let me out, slamming it loudly as soon as I was clear of it, and I went into my room, falling on the bed in tears, not even sure what had just happened. The night before, we were fine. He had been sweet and attentive, holding me all night. Even in the morning, he had kissed me before leaving me in his bed to go out on a run. But when he came back, he was cool. Not even cool, he was ice cold, and I felt just like I had when I was brought in, being treated like a stranger, not like someone he cared about. 

   Both nights that we were apart, I dreamt of Negan and the awful look on his face as I fled from him, and the images always blended into the one memory I had of my father, who'd been in prison most of my life for reasons that my mother refused to discuss with me. The same scene kept coming up in my subconscious. A very young me, playing on the floor with dolls and a cup of juice, and the man who was my father sitting on the couch with a cup in his hand watching me. I'd spill my juice and he'd stand up, the image fading to black. That's the only recollection I had of him, and I felt an impending sense of dread when I'd wake up.

   Now, two days later, we hadn't laid eyes on each other, and the whole situation was wearing on me, especially with Carolyn noticing that we weren't anywhere near each other, and she'd seized on the opportunity to get me alone. She'd come up to the roof specifically to get into it with me, but I wasn't going to take the bait.

  "Piss off."

   "Ooh, such a disrespectful thing to say," she taunted, and I refused to look at her, focusing out on the horizon and the setting sun of day two. "Being around Negan is started to rub off on you."

   "Too bad he doesn't rub off on you, anymore."

   "You sure about that, Sister? You haven't seen him for a few days," she purred, and I reacted, a feeling of utter violence ripping through my veins. My hand flew across the space between us and landed on her cheek with the loudest sound I'd ever heard. Her head rocked back, and she let out a scream, lunging at me, but I was ready. She was lazy, but I wasn't. She was pampered, but I wasn't. 

   I was on my feet before she closed the short distance and I used her momentum against her, clawing her arm and winging her out into the middle of the roof, where she fell to her knees, and I landed on top of her, striking her as she tried to turn over underneath me. Carolyn was able to get a hand into my hair, and she pulled down roughly, her nails breaking the skin of my scalp until I rammed my fist into her stomach. 

   I was panting as someone yanked me off of her, and she burst into tears, reaching out for Negan, who dropped me onto my butt. 

   "What the fuck is going on up here?" he yelled, pulling her up to a sitting position, avoiding her arms as she tried to put them around his neck, and I scrambled to my feet. 

   "She just attacked me, baby," Carolyn whimpered, holding her cheek since she couldn't hold him, and I backed towards the door. "I was up here minding my own business, and she freaked out, swearing at me, and punching me." 

   "You're a liar," I hissed, "You're nothing but a cheater and a liar."

   Her eyes widened, and the crocodile tears stopped at once as his head whipped around towards me, leveling me with a deadly gaze. The same gaze as that night, and my insides turned to lead.

   "What did you say?"

   I could see Carolyn giving me a pleading look, and I froze, terrified down to my soul. There was no way out of the quicksand I had just jumped into, and I didn't even try. I ran.

   Down the steps, into the hallway and to the stairwell as I heard him shouting after me. Like a bird caught in a spider web, I fought to get free, to get away from him, and I made it to the third floor before I even registered where I was. Simon's room was somewhere on this floor and I moved through the halls like a cheetah, running at top speed, around and around until I literally bumped into him, both of us flying back against the wall.

   "Hey, what the hell's going on?" he asked, taking me by the shoulders, and I whimpered, out of breath. 

   "Please help me," I pleaded, dropping my head to my hands, shuddering sobs ripping through the hallway until he quickly rushed me to his room. Guiding me over to his little couch, I collapsed in a heap, unable to get control of myself, and he shut the door, locking it for good measure. 

   I felt the cushions shift as he sat down next to me, patting me awkwardly as I cried. Once I slowed down, he wordlessly handed me a tissue, and I dabbed at my face, letting out little hiccuping breaths. 

   "Tell me what happened." 

   The words were soft, and I melted into his side as I spoke through my tears. I told him everything. How I'd found out what Carolyn was up to, and how we followed her, taking pictures of her with Mickey, and I felt him tense up next to me. 

   "I didn't want to get them into trouble," I babbled, feeling safer when he put his arm around me to calm me. "She just wouldn't stop torturing me. She's the nastiest woman I've ever met, and I couldn't take it anymore. We told her that we wouldn't turn her in as long as she left Negan's floor, but..."

   "You don't get to make those decisions, kid," he sighed, "though I understand why you thought you were doing the right thing."

   "But before she could bow out, Negan and I-" I stuttered, still unable to even say the words to him. "And he told me he wouldn't sleep with them while we were together."

   "So what happened?"

   I needed a moment to collect myself, and I blew my nose while he fished out another tissue, handing it to me. 

   "Negan came back two days ago in a really bad mood, and we got into a fight. He was treating me like a piece of crap and then asked me why I thought Carolyn wasn't trying to get together with him anymore."

   "Okay..." The word came out like he was trying to remain neutral, and I twisted the tissue between my hands, ripping it in half. 

   "I got upset. But the way he looked at me, Simon, I just...it made me feel horrible. We haven't seen each other for two days, and it's worn me down. Worn me out. Then Carolyn cornered me just a little bit ago, and she taunted me, saying that he'd gone to her, that he broke his promise."

   "And you beat the crap out of her," he finished, one of his fingers running over my swollen knuckles. 

   "I've never hit anyone in my life like that. I've never gotten so angry like that. Ever. Negan broke us apart, and she just went into her act, saying that I attacked her for no reason, and I flipped, I told her that she was a cheater and a liar."

   "Oh, kid," he muttered, and I could tell he knew that the situation was not good. 

   "I can't do this," I cried, my hysteria taking over again as I struggled with how I was going to get out of this mess that I'd created for myself, one that couldn't be argued through or reasoned away. 

   Simon let me huddle up against him, just rubbing my shoulder as I shed a copious amount of tears onto his shirt until both of us jumped as someone pounded so hard on the door that I thought it would split into pieces. He got up to answer it, and I scrambled off of the couch, backing up to the wall and sliding down onto the floor, clutching my knees to my chest. 

   Negan came thundering into the room with wild eyes and fingers twisted into claws, one of them holding a glass. And then it happened. Me on the floor, looking up at his approach with a glass in hand released a tidal wave of memories, ones that I'd blocked out and repressed. 

    _He yanked me by the arm, throwing his glass against the wall, dragging me into the kitchen for a towel as I cried, the terror making me limp. Back into the living room where my face was dragged across the carpet, my nose rubbed into wet, sweet-smelling juice that I'd knocked over while playing with my dolls. "You stupid fuck! You dumb little bitch! Clean it up!"_

_Tiny hands trying desperately to scrub at a purple stain until my mother came in, getting in between us, absorbing the blows that were meant for me. She was the one that normally took them, slaps and harsh growled words when I was supposed to be sleeping, or in another room. I didn't understand then, but I did now._

_Newly realized recollections of her taking me to the park with black eyes and stiff ribs, pushing me on the swings even as she whimpered in pain._

_"You're my good girl. You're such a good girl. You'll never be like him."_

   It was the only memory I had of him, and it was because he'd been put in jail not long after that. If he hadn't directed his violence towards me, I'm not sure she would've ever dared to change the situation. No photos of him, no discussions at all, my mother assuming that since I was so young, I'd never remember my father, who was locked away to keep us safe. 

   But I did, and it wasn't Negan approaching me now, it was him. He was here to hurt me, to make me feel as small and insignificant as I did in that horrible memory that felt like it just happened, and I freaked out.

   My limbs flailed as I tried to keep him away from me, hitting his glass and sending it flying as he crouched down next to me. 

   "Don't hurt me," I screeched, trembling like a leaf as he tried to get ahold of my wrists, and I looked wildly as Simon who stood there in shock. "Simon, please, he'll kill me, he'll beat me just like my father. He's the same."

   "Marie, stop," Negan said, looking terrified for me, but I wasn't fooled. They were the same, I knew that now. The baseball bat, the punishments, I was too blinded before to see it. He was just like my father, exerting his power with violence and intimidation over those who couldn't fight back, and I wedged my leg between us on his chest, pushing back with a burst of strength, successfully knocking him off-kilter, and I launched myself into a run, just managing to break free of Simon's hands as he tried to stop me.

   I couldn't stay here, with a man who didn't care about me. He only cared about power and violence, and he'd shown it time and again with his cold treatment and threatening looks, and I only wanted to be out of the compound. I couldn't wait for Sherry and Dwight, I needed to get away, to be that good girl that I used to be, that my mother wanted me to be. Why didn't I see it before? How could my brain have not made the connection?

   A part of me knew it was foolish, but I bolted for the main floor, zipping through the cafeteria with a tearstained face and swollen knuckles, the other part of me realizing in a sort of muted horror that I was the same. I was my father's daughter, and I'd resorted to violence in a fit of anger. All the years I'd tried to be kind, to make a better life for others were a doomed attempt to flee what I really was, the daughter of an abuser and also the abused. 

   My vision tunneled as I passed through the open door, the gate to safety laying before me, and I slammed into it, breathless, pounding with my injured hands, trying to open it. 

   "Marie!"

   A voice called me from a distance, but I didn't turn around, sure it was Negan trying to prevent me from getting out, and I screamed for someone to let me out, to let me go.

   The men that stood guard had their hands on their guns, refusing to let me through, but unsure of what to do, and I tried in vain to pull it open, my fingers scraping on the sharp metal edges. 

   "Marie," the voice said just behind my ear, and I swung my fist, clocking Charlie in the nose as he staggered back. "Marie, it's me," he tried again, but even he couldn't protect me. Negan would just offer him a sweeter deal, and I spun away from him, taking off at a run towards the back of the compound, seeing Sherry come rushing out with him, the man in black, and she called out to me but I kept going, my heart hammering with overexertion. 

   Back to the training area. There was a chain link fence that I could scale, and maybe throw my shirt over the razor wire to keep from getting ripped up. That's where I headed, not even thinking about who was watching me and the fact that walkers were milling around outside. Those I could deal with. Their intentions were always clear. They didn't try to hide their desire to rip you to shreds with sweet smiles and gentle touches. They presented their horror front and center. 

   I had my foot on the links when I was thrown backwards onto the ground by a large body, clad in leather and breathing heavily, forcing my arms around my body in the same position as the day he kidnapped me and drugged me, and I slammed my head into the ground the exact same way I'd done then, trying desperately to free myself from his iron grip around my middle. 

   "Leave me alone," I shrieked, feeling my vocal cords ripping as he put all of his weight on me, holding my head down with one of his hands. 

   "Get the doctor," he grunted, and I heard footsteps retreat as I shut my eyes, pinned under the devil, my skin burning from contact with him. 

   "Let me go," I croaked in a broken voice and a shattered mind, unable to distinguish one evil man from another. "Just let me go."

   "I'm not going to hurt you, Angel."

   He was a liar. All he did was hurt me.

   "Let me go."

   It was all I could say, and I repeated it like a broken record as he rubbed his thumb softly on my forehead where he was holding me down, trying to calm me. 

   Our breathing matched up, both in and out at an accelerated pace until I heard people approaching, and I opened my eyes to see him looking at me, the whites of his eyes red and glassy, but I couldn't deal with him, and I turned my head to see Sherry following behind Dr. Carson. 

   He had a needle in his hand, and I began to struggle again, though it did me no good, the sharp pinch in my arm making me sob again. Within several seconds, my body began to get heavy, and my eyelids slammed shut, the feeling of being lifted up into the devil's arms making me cry out weakly. I was trapped. Trapped in his factory, and trapped in his clutches, soft lips and rough stubble grazing my face as he dragged me kicking and screaming in my mind back to Hell with him.


	29. Mother Mary Comes to Me

  
  
_I was warm and safe in my mother's arms. She held me close to her heart, her gentle fingers running through my hair as she rocked me back and forth._

_"It's okay, sweetheart," she murmured as I buried my head into her chest, listening to her steady heartbeat. "You'll be okay. You're not like him."_

_"Like who?" The words were small, said in a high-pitched childlike voice that I recognized as my own._

_"Your father," she breathed, tightening her arms around me. "I made sure of it."_

_I wanted to believe her, here in the safety of her arms, but I wasn't sure. There was so much anger inside me. Anger that she'd never told me the truth, and self-directed rage because I'd hidden it from myself for so many years._

_"Shh," she hushed, reading my thoughts. "You're a good girl. A sweet girl. We all get upset, but you'll be better. You're still meant to help people. Even him."_

_"My father?"_

_It felt like we were speaking in circles, and she let out a deep breath, her heart beginning to beat faster against my ear._

_"No. The man you love."_

_"I don't love anyone."_

_She laughed lightly, and her arms loosened from around my body, the warmth leaving my limbs as her voice faded. "You can lie to me sweetheart, but you can't lie to yourself..."_

_I reached out to her, but I felt nothing, not the whisper of her voice or her silky skin. I couldn't even smell her anymore, the heady perfume that she always wore no longer surrounding me. Only a heartbreaking silence as words from another filled my mind._

   "...similar to post-traumatic stress disorder, to the best of my knowledge..."

   My eyes blinked rapidly before slamming shut, the bright light to harsh for me to see, and I began to realize that there were people to my back, engaging in a hushed conversation. About me.

   "Well, why now? Why all of a sudden?"

   It was a feminine voice, slightly husky, and I recognized it immediately as Sherry's.

   "Well," said a gentler voice with a slight exhale, "sometimes there's a triggering event, something that brings up unpleasant memories of a traumatic experience. Someone that's severely stressed will end up with a 'fight or flight' response, and from what Negan told me, she was very panicked, and mentioned him hurting her like her father."

   I tried to remain still and calm as I listened to him tell Sherry about me, and I could feel my pulse begin to race, and I worked hard to take slow, even breaths, telling myself over and over that I was safe and my father wasn't here. Neither was Negan.

   "So, how do we help her?"

   "My recommendation would be to talk to her, to help her make sense of what she went through and why it affected her here and now. Something, in particular, prompted her into this past memory, and if we can pinpoint it, we can help her to work through this, and give her coping mechanisms."

   Their voices got lower as they moved further away from me, and I fought to keep the images of Negan approaching me with an angry face and a glass in his hand blending with that of my father and his violent movements. Was it the same?

   I had to try to go by what I knew. Negan was a violent person. That was a fact. He hadn't physically harmed me. Also a fact. But all I could see was every horrid look he'd ever given me, every cold glare and sneer, and I felt my eyes burning beneath my lids.

   "No. Get out," Sherry hissed, breaking me from my thoughts, and I almost jerked violently.

   "I want to see her."

   It sent shivers up my spine to hear his voice, my pulse racing even faster as I heard his footsteps just feet from me.

   "What the fuck did you do to her?"

   "I didn't do anything. I didn't touch her."

   "You're not getting anywhere near her unless it's over my dead body until you tell me what the fuck happened. Two days ago she was fine, and all of a sudden you're avoiding her and she's trying to escape over a fence. So start fucking talking or I swear to God I'll find a gun and stand guard over her for the rest of her life."

   The sound of something scraping across the floor and a deep sigh reached my ears, and I was beyond grateful that Sherry was here, watching out for me.

   "I fucked up, okay? I know that," Negan said, and I heard him grunt as he apparently sat down. "I fucking picked a fight with her on purpose."

   "Why?" she asked coldly, and I moved my face incrementally to wipe a stray tear off of my temple that was tickling my skin.

   "I was out on the pickup, right? And we stopped at this shitty little rinky-dink mom and pop store that sits off of the highway. I ordered my men to check it out, and while they were looking for anything that was still useful, I went into the back to see what was in the office," he said, and he sounded tired. "When I shined the flashlight around, I saw that there was something shiny on the wall, so I went in further to see what it was. And it was a crucifix."

   He stopped speaking, clearing his voice. A part of me wanted to turn around to see his face, to ask him if it burned his skin when he touched it.

   "And?"

   "I thought about Marie, about how much she'd like it. It was pretty, I guess. So I tried to get it off the wall, but the fucking thing wouldn't budge. It was like it was bolted on or some shit, and I started to get irate, because I wanted to do something nice for her. But, because my mind was on her and not my goddamned surroundings, I didn't notice the fucking walker that was in the corner until it chomped down on my arm."

   "You were bitten?" she asked, and she actually sounded hopeful, damn her.

   "No," he snapped, noticing her lack of concern. "I was wearing my jacket. But it pissed me the fuck off, that I was so caught up thinking about her that I didn't even think to check the room. That's not me. I never worry about the stupid shit that you girls want. I could give a fuck less."

   "So instead of dealing with the fact that you actually care about Marie and you have real, genuine feelings for her, you come back here and deliberately hurt her. You made her feel vulnerable, and you didn't even stop to think about how it would affect her. Do I have the gist of it?" she said, her voice like ice, and it faltered. "Do you even care what Carolyn's said and done to her? Or did you automatically fall for her bullshit up on the roof?"

   "I didn't get the chance to talk to her, she just took off," he hissed, trying to keep his voice down as I started to shake, not wanting to hear any more. I was still processing everything that happened to me, and Negan's immature reaction only made it harder. Who does that? I mean, who figures out that they really care about someone, and tries to drive them away? _Psycho_.

   "You know, they haven't even invented a word to describe how fucked up you really are. I mean, I get it. I've seen it firsthand, but this..."

   "Just get the fuck out," Negan muttered, and I could hear the sound of something shifting. "Leave me alone with her."

   "Absolutely not. You need to tell me what happened when she freaked out."

   "Jesus, Sherry, I went to Simon's to check on her, and when I went towards her, she fucking lost it," he said, and I wanted to scream. He wasn't coming to check on me, he was barrelling towards me with his drink like a nut. "She started thrashing around and saying I was going to kill her or beat her like her fucking father."

   Sherry let out a deep sigh, and I heard another chair scrape across the floor. "Did she tell you that she was abused? Because she's never once talked about her dad with me. Only her mom."

   "No. I made some asinine joke about him touching her sexually, and the look on her face made me want to kick my own fucking ass," he said, sounding remorseful, something I didn't think he could even understand. "She refused to tell me about him, and now I see why."

   The room grew silent, and I could feel myself start to break, overhearing too much, feeling too much. My body started to tremble, and I let out a gasp, covering my face. Both chairs pushed back, and I felt soft fingers on my wrists as Sherry tried to pull my hands away, but I kept them over my eyes, crying in earnest.

   "Hey, it's me," she whispered, and I curled myself up into a ball, just wanting to go back to sleep with no dreams and no memories. She bent her face down to mine, wrapping her arms around me until I felt a second set of hands, and I slapped at them to get him off of me. "Go," Sherry ordered, and he actually listened to her, the door closing softly.

   She climbed up on the bed, pulling me into a bear hug, and something relaxed inside of me, allowing me to let out all of my sadness, all of my pain as she rubbed my back, murmuring words of encouragement as I clutched at her shirt. I felt safe, safe enough to fall back asleep, knowing that she wouldn't let Negan in until I was ready to see him.

 

   The next morning, I woke up feeling like I'd been through a shredder. My body ached and my mind was moving in slow motion as I tried to get my bearings. Sherry and I were squished in bed together, each pushed up against the metal bars of the hospital bed, and she was drooling on the pillow, her mouth slightly parted as I watched her quietly. I couldn't get out without waking her up, so I waited patiently until her eyes fluttered open, and she started to cough heavily.

   "Quitting smoking sucks," she mumbled, wiping at her face. "I cough more now than ever before." She blinked at me, giving me a reassuring smile. "Feeling any better?"

   I shrugged as I got to a sitting position, running a hand through my knotted hair. "Not really. I'm sure everyone thinks I'm insane," I said dully.

   "Nobody thinks you're insane, and even if they did, who gives a fuck?"

   "I do. I don't want anyone looking at me differently. I just want to be..."

   Sherry sat up so that we were shoulder to shoulder, and she put her arm around me to comfort me. "Nothing's changed, Marie. You're still the same person. Whatever happened, we can deal with it. We'll get through it. Now let's go get cleaned up."

   "I can't go back up there," I said, feeling my face get hot. "Not after my appalling behavior with Carolyn."

   "She's not up there anymore. In fact," Sherry smiled, ducking her face towards mine, "she's not even at the Sanctuary."

   "Huh?"

   "She and Mickey have been 'escorted' out of town, on Negan's orders."

   I understood the words, but I couldn't comprehend their meaning, and I looked at her stupidly. "He killed them?" It was barely a whisper, looking for confirmation that he was, in fact, the Devil.

   "No," Sherry assured me, climbing out of the bed to stretch with a groan. "They were given some supplies and a few knives and dropped off a few hours away. Since they were so enamored of each other," she snorted, "Negan wished them well and told them if he ever laid eyes on either one, they'd be shot on sight and strung up around the gates."

   I shook my head back and forth, unwilling to believe that someone who would cut off a finger for theft would let a woman that cheated on him off scot-free. It wasn't true, and she was trying to make me feel better. She had to be.

   "Hey," she said, getting my attention. "Have I ever lied to you before?"

   "No."

   "Then why would I start now?"

   "I'm sorry," I apologized immediately, sliding down to the end of the bed with shaky movements. "I just can't believe he'd let it slide."

   "He did it for you."

   I got to my feet, my nerves pulsating as she looked at me, and I started for the door, the urge to run as strong as it was the night before. I only got to the end of the hall before Sherry pulled me to a stop. "Marie, I explained everything to him."

   "What?"

   "I told him everything that happened with Carolyn. Every word she's ever said, how we found out what she was doing. Everything."

   I extricated myself from her grip, and I started up the steps to his room with her hot on my trail. I had to know, and it had to be now before I left. Out of breath by the time I reached the top, I knocked Alicia out of the way as I stormed his room without knocking, the door flying open.

   Negan sat up with a start as I charged for him, but he didn't try to defend himself, he just watched me with tired, brown eyes and messy hair as I stood over him with my fists clenched, partly relieved that I didn't immediately think of my father.

   "Why did you let her go?"

   He didn't say anything, he just raked his eyes over my face as my arms began to shake.

   "Why?" I said louder, taking one step forward. "What am I going to have to owe you after this?"

   "You don't owe me anything, Angel. I just want you to be happy. I lo-I care about you."

   Neither of us was happy at that moment. Not Negan, as he frowned at my condition. Not me, looking down at a man who scared me and my mother's words came flooding back into my head.

    _You can lie to me, sweetheart, but you can't lie to yourself._

   I may love this monster, and it upset me more than I could even fathom. Terrified that I was following in my mother's footsteps, I dropped down to my knees with a cry, my head resting against my chest. I didn't want to continue the cycle of violence that formed the very basis of who I was, and yet, when he got down on the floor next to me, I let him hold me, the face that blended in with my father's resting on the top of my head.

   "Let me make you happy."


	30. Thy Will Be Done

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short, but important transition chapter.

  
   The sky was dark blue, just before night, and I watched the slow passage of time from my spot on Negan's bed, feeling both overly tired and wound up. I'd been laying here for hours after my talk with both he and Sherry. It had been painful, reliving memories that I'd somehow managed to avoid for years, and the fact that they'd informed my entire life without me realizing it was a difficult pill to swallow for some reason, and it left me in tears several times.

   I knew that Negan had struggled to control his emotions as I tried to explain the terror that I'd felt when he'd come at me, and no matter the intent behind it, I couldn't help the way it affected me.

   "I would never physically hurt you, Angel," he'd said as he paced the floor, and Sherry curled her arm around me as I hunched over my knees, still smelling juice in my nose, the sensory memory of my father rubbing my face in the stained carpet. My back throbbed with phantom blows, large knuckles hitting my spine, and I felt my mouth fill with fluid, warning me that I was going to vomit, and I sped into his bathroom.

   Nothing came out, and I dry heaved a few times before rinsing out my mouth and shuffling back out to his office, where I found him whispering to Sherry, his back turned towards me.

   Immediately assuming they were making derogatory comments, I froze in my spot, my heart thrumming a dangerous beat until Sherry spied my defensive posture, and she hurried around Negan, whose eyes I couldn't see.

   "Hey," she said carefully, guiding me back to the couch. "We were just talking, and we think you should see if Dr. Carson has any anti-anxiety medications left. It might help you in the short-term."

   "No," I shook my head resolutely. "I'm not taking any pills. I'll figure out a way through this myself."

   "Angel, you need-"

   "Stop calling me that," I exploded, giving him a dirty look. "I'm not an angel. I'm the daughter of two fucked up individuals, and I'm just now coming to grips with the fact that the life I thought I had was a lie. Just stop."

   He gave me a hurt look before throwing up his hands in frustration, and he left his room, but he didn't slam the door.

   After several more attempts to pick through the fractured memories I had, Sherry went to my room to retrieve some fresh clothes, making me promise to come and get her if I needed anything. I lied and said I would, carrying my things into the bathroom, showering longer than I ever had before.

   When I was done, I stood in front of the mirror, wiping off the condensation and studying my worn and tired face, searching for any resemblance to my father. My overwrought brain had only given me troubled visions of him, but I thought that he and I both had green eyes. My hair color was similar to my mother's, and I wondered how much more of my genetic makeup and personal characteristics were a mixture of the two of them. Two people who were probably like oil and water.

   Negan and I were the same, I feared. Good together for a while, but bound to separate into two different forms. He, a man who could kill with one swing of his bat, and me, a skittish woman-child who had no idea who she really was. I knew who I wanted to be, and I knew who I wanted him to be, but I had the sick feeling that we were doomed lovers.

   A new world Romeo and Juliet who were going to destroy each other and the lives of those around them.

   The mere thought hit me like a ton of bricks, exhausting me, and I trudged out to his bed, burying myself under the covers on his side where I remained until he finally returned as the stars were shining down on me.

   "You're still here," he murmured as he set his bat down on his desk, hovering in the doorframe as I continued to look out the window.

   "Do you want me to leave?"

   He didn't answer, instead crawling onto the bed and laying behind me, leaving a respectable distance between us, probably afraid I'd freak out if he touched me.

   "I got you a room downstairs," he said, and I felt like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water all over me.

   "So, you're done, then? You're giving up on me?" The words were choked and small, and I hated the pain I heard in my voice.

   "What? No," he replied quickly, and I felt the tips of his fingers brushing my back. "I'm giving you what you've asked for since we met. The freedom to choose what you want. You can go downstairs and stay. Work the books and train. Nothing will change."

    _Now_  he gives me a choice, when I barely even know who I am.

   I thought about it, long and hard. So long, in fact, that I was pretty sure that he fell asleep, and I rolled over to look at him in the moonlight. His eyes were closed and his beautiful face was soft and relaxed. With careful movements, I inched closer to him, resting my head on his shoulder, and he jerked awake, drawing in a large breath before placing his arm on my waist.

   "I don't want to move," I whispered, and he turned his face towards mine, putting his lips against my forehead, and I felt his warm breath in my hair as he breathed long and hard. "I want you, and..."

   My throat constricted with mixed emotions, and I wrapped my arm tightly around his neck. "I want you to make me happy. I want to make _you_ happy."

   "Whatever happened in the past doesn't matter," he muttered into my skin, brushing his lips back and forth, the deep rumble of his voice sending chills down my spine. "You're father's fucked up treatment of you and your mother is on him, and him alone. You survived, and you're still here, still a good woman."

   I took a shuddering breath, burying my head in his neck as I felt my eyes start to water, wanting to believe him so badly that it made my skin ache.

   "And you are an angel. You're _my_ angel."

   Those few words sent me over the edge, and I ended up on top of him, my legs resting on either side of his as he held my head firmly against his chest, letting me cry myself out.

   When the last tear fell, I wiped my face and eased myself up onto my elbows to find him looking at me sweetly, and it made me drop my head automatically to kiss him, the intensity building as I felt his body harden underneath mine. A warning growl slipped from his throat, but I pressed on, needing physical comfort as well as nice words, and I moved my mouth from his lips down his jaw and along his neck, his fingers digging almost painfully into my hips.

   Rolling me onto my back, Negan pinned my hands above my head, kissing me with such fervor that I ended up breathless, my skin pink and raw as he lifted my shirt up to my neck, nibbling on the underside of my breasts, one hand holding my wrists and the other slipping into my pants. I squirmed against his palm, my arms pushing against his hold, and he let me go, allowing me to rip at his shirt, pulling it over his head as I sat up, fumbling with the button on his pants.

   Our movements were clumsy and awkward in the dark until we were both undressed, and he pushed my thighs apart, entering me in one fluid motion, hiking my leg up over his shoulder as he covered my mouth with his, and I whimpered into it, digging my nails into the back of his arms.

   For someone who had spent her entire life avoiding sexual intimacy, I found I now craved it as much as food, water, or air. It was suddenly a necessity to me, or at least the act with Negan. He did things to me physically that I never knew I could experience, and as he quickened his pace, I began to rock my hips in response, a deep satisfaction coming from watching him, feeling him lose control. He began to push harder, faster, and I got that wonderful warm feeling down in my core, a pulsating rush as he licked and sucked on my neck. Strong fingers rubbed a frantic circle between my thighs, making my breath come out in strained pants as I edged closer to a delicious spasm, and I whispered his name in a hoarse cry, my stomach clenching as a wave of joy coursed through my body.

   He came not long after me, his entire body collapsing on top of mine, our skin sticking together as I felt his warm fluid spreading inside me, the sudden realization that he hadn't put on a condom making my eyes snap open. He must've come to the same understanding, because he scrambled off of me, pulling me up into a sitting position.

   "Fucking hell," he muttered, stumbling into the bathroom with me in hand, turning on the shower as I ran my hand down my face. Other than the first time we slept together, we'd always used protection, and I had no intention of becoming a mother. At least, not anytime soon. "Try and, uh, rinse out as much as you can."

   My face and neck were red from both exertion and his stubble, and I stepped under the water as he used the toilet, trying to discreetly cleanse myself and my interior. When he opened the door to join me, I looked at him with big eyes. "I think Carson has that morning-after pill shit."

   I nodded, closing my eyes as he ran his hands down my shoulders to my hands, bringing them to his lips. Reaching up, I pulled him into a hug, just letting the water run over the two of us, and I felt like my head was clearer than it had been in days. I was by no means okay, or over what I'd been through, but it was almost like I saw a light up ahead, and I could make my way towards it.

   We broke apart after a few minutes of wasted water, and I turned him around, reaching for the soap and running it along his back, cleaning him up as he let out an appreciative rumble. Negan returned the favor, and once we were both clean, he handed me a towel, and I dried off before crawling back into the bed, slightly damp and very tired.

   "Were you really going to let me move downstairs?" I asked curiously as he fished out a pair of pajama pants and pulled them on slowly.

   "I wouldn't have been happy about it, but yes," he confirmed, slicking back his hair before jumping on the bed, making the bedframe creak loudly under his weight. I bobbed up and down a few times, rolling my eyes as he crawled back on top of me over the covers, trapping me under his warm skin. "I told you, I want you to be happy."

   "Huh."

   "That's it?" His eyebrows rose and his mouth tightened as he stared down at me. "I unselfishly offer to give up my company for you, and you say 'huh'."

   "What was I supposed to say? 'Bless you, Negan, for your sacrifice'?"

   "It wouldn't hurt," he snapped, flopping onto his back. "I think it was pretty fucking awesome of me to think about your needs, and not my own feelings."

   "Do you want a medal?"

   He looked over at me and saw that I was trying not to smile, and he smirked for just a second before putting on a serious face.

   "Kind of."

   "Touche."

   "Thank you, for thinking about my needs," I said, and I meant it. "I'm not okay, but I will be. It's going to take me time, but I know deep down that you're not like my father. You'd never do what he did. Not to a woman. Not to me."

   "I do what I do for a reason, Angel, not because I get off on it. But no matter what happens, you don't ever have to worry about me hurting you. I could never bring myself to harm one hair on your pretty little head. I like it too much."

   Negan lifted up his backside before getting under the covers, and we recreated our earlier position as I put my head on his chest, listening to his heart beating as he ran his thumb up and down my arm. Tomorrow, I could begin to get back to my regular life. I would do my book work and see Simon and let him know I was still here. I'd train and help out around the factory.

  That's what I told myself, anyway. I had no way of knowing that the following day, everything would change, because Negan would be introducing himself to the mysterious killers from Alexandria.


	31. A Friend's Pilgrimage

   I swear that the sun was up hours earlier the next morning, and I rolled over to see that I was alone in the bed, though I could hear Negan doing something at his desk.

   I got out of the bed and stumbled into the bathroom, grabbing Negan’s discarded shirt and my underwear off of the floor on the way, splashing my face with icy water and brushing my teeth. My hair was snarled from sleeping on it wet, and I pulled it back into a ponytail after brushing it thoroughly before padding out into his office, where he pointed me towards the table without looking at me.

   There was a platter of food piled there, and my stomach panged at the sight. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d eaten, and I sat down heavily, stuffing my face with the rich pastries, I’m sorry to say. I glanced over, but he was intent on a map spread out in front of him, making precise marks here and there. Knowing better than to bother him when he was focusing, I turned myself around, busying my hands with the rich food that sat untouched until I’d come along.

  It was quiet, with only the scratch of a pencil and the creaks of my chair as I shifted around, and once I’d eaten my fill, I let out an uncomfortable sigh, pushing myself away from the table.

   “Don’t go that long without eating again,” Negan said in a low voice, and I felt my shoulders stiffen. It’s not like I did it on purpose. He must’ve realized the way it sounded because his next words were much softer. “I don’t like seeing you that hungry. It’ll make you sick.”

   “I won’t.” There was no point in arguing.

   After I cleaned up the crumbs I’d made, sweeping them back onto the plate, I perched on the couch, watching him unashamedly as he leaned over the map, his tongue popping out as he concentrated on a specific area, his finger sweeping across the wrinkled paper.

   He picked up his radio, and I heard Simon’s voice through the small speaker.

   “All roads are covered. We’re just waiting for them to leave. Spotter says they’re loading up a big, old RV.”

   “Let me know when they’re close to the field. Direct them without any hiccups,” Negan ordered in a stern voice.

   “You got it, boss.”

   He kept his back towards me as I processed the minute information I’d just been witness to, and I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand up. A tingling sensation that traveled from the top of my head to the base of my skull. Alexandria. He’s making his presence known today. Which means Dwight and Sherry were mere hours from leaving.

   I would’ve burst into tears if he hadn’t turned around at that moment, and something on my face sent him immediately towards me. He sat down on the couch, pulling me onto his lap as I gripped his neck roughly.

   “Tell me.”

   I looked into his eyes, but I couldn’t see anything there. Not good, or bad. Just…nothing. He was already the man in black, and he hadn’t even left yet. Everything I wanted to say died in my throat, so I just hugged him, and his big arms enclosed my waist as I breathed deeply into his neck.

   “Are you going to kill them all?” I finally asked, his muscles twitching along my side.

   “I should,” he said, making my breath catch. “But I won’t. They have to be punished for what they’ve done. For the lives they fucking took.”

   “Punished?”

   “Punished,” he confirmed. “At least one of them is going to get beaten to death.”

   Leaning back slightly, I took his face in my hands, trying one last time.

   “Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful.”

   He looked at me blankly for a moment as I searched his eyes, but they were already hardened, and he shook his head.

   “My mercy is that I don’t destroy every single person that snuck into my fucking facility and slit sleeping throats, Angel. Don’t ask me to overlook what they’ve done.”

   "Can you blame me for trying?" I asked with a sad smile, and his eyes melted to a liquid brown, and he rubbed my arm absently. 

   "You wouldn't be you, sweet thing," he admitted, kissing me gently. "But a debt needs to be paid. You didn't see the carnage. I did."

   I couldn't argue with that. I'd seen his face when he'd returned from the outpost, and it's a wonder that he was going to restrain himself at all. 

   "Be careful," I murmured into his mouth before getting on my feet, and he patted my backside as he strode back over to his desk to grab his things, including Lucille. 

   "If you want to work on the books, have at it, but no training. We're going to be light on Saviors here today, and fucking Dwight is down puking his guts out," Negan told me, making my stomach turn into lead. "He's fucking useless today, so Simon will be running things until I get there. Gavin's already captured a few of the fuckers, and I'll be waiting out there until they're in place."

   I couldn't speak, so I just nodded, approximating a smile as he came back over for one more embrace, and as I leaned my head on his chest, I thought briefly about what it would feel like to leave with Sherry and never see him again. There were two separate and conflicting emotions. 

   One was a feeling of euphoria, the sensation that my life would go back to being simple. Just scavenging what I needed, and an ability to re-devote myself to the Lord. The other was an acute sadness, a desolate ache at the thought of never seeing Negan's face again, or the touch of his body on mine. No more conversations and discussions where his eyes would light up as he pushed and prodded me into a heated dialogue as I tried to get him to see my side of whatever we disagreed on. 

   No chance to save his soul, when I could see and feel minor changes already. 

   Forcing his face down, I took the rare initiative, forcing my mouth onto his, my tongue slipping through his parted lips, and I kissed him with all the conflicted emotions that I felt at that moment, nearly breathless when I finally released him, and his face was flushed with desire as he steadied himself. 

   "I gotta go," he growled, his voice as rough as if it had been through a shredder, and I took a step back. "Stay here tonight. I'll be back in the morning."

   "See you tomorrow."

   I would. Darn it all.

   He left, closing the door softly, and I headed back to his bed, curling up and staring at the wall until I heard the trucks begin to fire up, and I peeked out of the window to see him striding towards the largest one, his bat resting on his shoulder as he stepped up onto the running board. Before he climbed in, he turned around and looked up, so I pressed my open palm against the window. It was hard to see, but he winked at me and climbed in, his leather hand sticking out of the open window to wave the convoy forward. 

   I watched the procession until they disappeared down the road, and I went back to bed, unwilling to face the day. I would've gladly stayed there forever, but twenty minutes after they left, there was a knock on the door, so I pulled on my pants to answer it. 

   Alicia stood there with a grave face, her hands clenched together. 

   "Hey, I'm sorry to bother you, but I'm worried about Sherry. She spent the whole night drinking, apparently, and she won't come out of her room. Maybe she'll talk to you?"

   Giving her arm a quick squeeze, I followed her down the hall, not bothering to knock on Sherry's door, just barging my way in to find a plethora of wine bottles on her dresser, some of them laying on their sides, and my friend facedown on her bed, still dressed. 

   Alicia hovered behind me, and I told her to get a glass of water. She took off to the lounge and Sherry's head popped up, making me jump as she winked at me before resuming her position when the sound of heels approached. I took the glass from Alicia and shooed her out of the room, telling her I'd call her if I needed any help. 

   After giving Sherry one last look, she went back to the lounge and I shut the door, locking it as Sherry got up, stone-cold sober. Setting the glass down, I was pulled into a fierce hug as she began to shake. 

   "It's happening. It's finally fucking happening," she shuddered as I pulled back. 

   "You're not drunk?"

   "Fuck no," she swore, her eyebrows rising into her hair. "I just emptied them and scattered them around so everyone would think I was out of commission for the day. That way I can get my shit packed and hide out when it's time."

   "Oh, gosh," I said, my eyes filling with tears. "I'm going to miss you so much."

   Her face dropped, but she recovered quickly, pulling me back against her. 

   "I figured." Her voice was melancholy, and I started to cry harder. It was selfish of me to want her to stay just so I wouldn't be alone. She deserved to be happy with Dwight and to have a life that was just theirs. "Taped under your drawer is a map, and I marked where we're heading to. Just in case. I'll leave signs for you that only you'll understand. White squares."

   "You know I'm corny, so I'm just going to say it," I sniffled into her hair. "I love you, and I'm thankful that you came into my life. I only want the best for you, Sherry, and I know one day we'll see each other again."

   "I love you, too, Sister. I mean that in every way. You're my family now, and if you need anything, you come and find me."

   We stood there for several minutes until I got myself together, checking my face in the mirror before I headed out. 

   "I'll keep the girls upstairs as much as I can after dinner. I'll tell them you're sleeping off your bender, and that you don't want to be bothered. When your tray comes, at least try to eat it, and leave it outside your door before you take off," I said over my shoulder, not wanting to leave. "Everything you need is in my closet."

   "Thank you."

   "Anything for you," I murmured before walking out, not even glancing back. If I did, I'd be a puddle on the floor. I was still a naive person, even after everything, and I chose to believe in that instant that I'd find her again, no matter what. After all, what's the point of life if not to have a little hope?

   Once I'd checked in with Phoebe and Alicia, I got showered and dressed, convincing them to hang out with me upstairs since it was shaping up to be a gorgeous spring day. 

   I thought a lot about Amber while we sat outside, and I thought that she might be smiling down on us, knowing that Sherry was going to be leaving, something she couldn't do. She seemed to be everywhere, from the blue in the sky that matched her eyes to the stories that Alicia and Phoebe shared, just random bits of information and some remembrances of days past before I arrived. 

   I laughed when I could, and nodded when I couldn't as the sun made its gradual path across the sky, and in between meals and drinks, I would duck downstairs to pretend to check on Sherry. The bag was gone from my closet, and I tamped down on the urge to head to the garage to run away with her, if only to avoid the inevitable chaos that would ensue when Negan came back and found them gone. That wasn't going to be fun for me, or anyone else, and I had to make sure my alibi was rock solid, so after calling down to order dinner and a separate tray, and hustled back upstairs to join the other women.

   Negan, Dwight, and Sherry. Each name, each face was a percolating worry that dripped and filtered through my mind as we ate, and the flashing faces, each drenched in anger, sadness and despair overtook what I saw. I didn't register Alicia's face when she spoke. I saw Sherry. It wasn't Phoebe eating next to me, it was Negan, and I let myself pray unabashedly. 

   I prayed for Sherry and Dwight to make it to freedom. I prayed that Negan would just let them go and not expend any effort to find them again after they'd already gotten away once. Most of all, I prayed for whatever was happening with the Alexandrian people to be over quickly, a doomed hope that the people who were brave enough, or cowardly enough, depending on one's point of view to take on the all-mighty Saviors would see that their efforts were fruitless. He was everywhere, and he knew everything. If he didn't, he always found out, eventually.

   As the sun went down and the old man from the kitchen came to collect our dirty plates, I wandered aimlessly around the roof, my entire being going into lockdown as I saw a delivery truck pull out of the bay towards the gate. 

   It was happening, and I held my breath as it stopped by the guard, and the window rolled down. I couldn't hear anything, but I saw Dwight's hair billowing out in the fading light as he gestured towards the horizon. He and the guard exchanged several words until Dwight's arm move erratically and the guard's arms went up in a submissive gesture. 

   Unable to feel anything but my own pulse throbbing behind my eyeballs, the gate opened and the truck moved at a leisurely pace down the road, until it, too, disappeared out of sight. They were gone, and I sent a good wish and a burst of love their way, another prayer moving beyond my silent lips that the guard didn't question Dwight's words and notify Negan that he was approaching.

   "Huh. He must be feeling better."

   I jumped as I realized that Alicia was standing next to me, and I shrugged, stuffing the emotions back down to the base of my head, where they could be brought back out later in the quiet and safety of Negan's room.

   "I guess it's all hands on deck," I reasoned, lifting my glass to my lips. 

    _May God bless you and keep you safe, sister._

   "Do you guys want to go watch a movie or something?" I asked, slapping at an imaginary mosquito that was biting my neck. "I'm starting to lose a lot of blood here."

   "Sure," Alicia trilled, gathering up the glasses and alcohol as I led the way. 

   "I'll check on Sherry and meet you in the lounge," I offered, not waiting for a response. 

   Ashamed, a part of me hoped that she was still in there, but when I opened the door, the room was dark and empty, and I sat down on her bed, putting my face in my hands.

   The lonely space still smelled like perfume and wine, and I let myself cry, just for a second. Surely I deserved it. 

   Fanning my eyes until they were dry, I walked to the door on autopilot, pressing the lock to buy her as much time as possible, and I made my way into the lounge, overriding the need to go into my room and look in my dresser for her map, just to reassure myself, instead plopping down on the couch as Phoebe rummaged through the DVDs that sat under the flat-screen tv. 

   "Any requests?"

   I shook my head as Alicia turned to me suddenly.

   "Do you love him, Marie?"

   My mouth popped open in surprise as Phoebe turned to look at me curiously, and my cheeks started to turn pink since I was put on the spot. 

   "I, uh, care about him very much, I guess. Why?"

   Her pretty mouth pursed into something ugly and she took a long swig of her drink before answering. 

   "I dunno," she slurred, clearly getting tipsy. "Doesn't it bother you that he slept with us?"

   "Is he still sleeping with you?" I asked with an edge to my voice, and her eyes widened slightly. 

   "No."

   "Then, no. I've got no room to be upset about something that had nothing to do with me. Do you like him, Alicia? Is there something I should know?"

   This was shades of Carolyn all over again until she inched closer to me, patting my shoulder.

   "No, I don't. I just don't know what the point of us being up here is if we're not going to sleep with him. It's all he ever wanted from us."

   "You don't want to go back downstairs, do you?" Phoebe asked, a movie case hanging loosely from her fingertips. 

   "Maybe," she muttered, giving Phoebe a dirty look. "It's boring up here. No one to talk to, nothing to do all day."

   "Yeah, but that's the point," Phoebe argued, as I sat there dumbfounded. "We're not in danger, and we don't have to work like dogs for points."

   "Alicia, what's this really about?" I questioned, getting her attention. "It didn't seem to bother you before."

   She slammed her glass down abruptly, starting to cry, and Phoebe and I looked at each other warily as I put my arms around her. 

   "I...met someone," she sniffled into her hands and Phoebe shook her head. 

   "You didn't do something stupid, did you? Because you know what happened with Carolyn," Phoebe warned her, kneeling down next to her as my eyes closed slowly. 

   "No," she said quickly, wiping softly at her face. "I just- I like him, and I keep thinking about Amber. How miserable she was, and she just wanted to be with Mark. How unhappy Sherry is. This guy is nice, and he has his own room. He's decent and..."

   Neither of us knew what to say, so we just sat there and let her ramble about this mysterious man who somehow caught her eye, though she wouldn't tell us his name. She'd met him not long ago when she went wandering down into the marketplace out of boredom, and she told us that he was young, about her age, and that he was the sweetest person she'd ever met. 

   I became jealously afraid that she was talking about Charlie, but I bit my tongue, having no room to get upset. Who she liked wasn't my business or my concern, and Phoebe placed both hands on Alicia's knees.

   "If you want to leave, you just have to tell Negan. He won't make you stay up here if you're not happy. Just make sure that this guy is worth it."

   Alicia's face blanched, and she pushed Phoebe's hands off of her, getting shakily to her feet. 

   "You know, it's not goddamned unheard of for me to want to be with someone, Phoebe. Life is too freaking short to just sit around, and who knows how long we get?"

   She swayed lightly, and I stood up to steady her.

   "You should go lay down," I said gently, steering her towards the door. "Get some rest and think about what you want. If you truly found someone you care about, you should go for it. I'll back you up, whatever good it does."

   "Thank you," she whispered, shooting Phoebe a laden look, obviously hurt by her lack of support. Stumbling off, I watched through the doorway until she made it to her room, throwing myself back down on the couch with a sigh. This was all too much. 

   "This floor is turning into a tomb," Phoebe grumbled, shoving some musical in and flopping down next to me as I curled my feet underneath myself on the couch, snorting. 

   "We all deserve some happiness," I observed. "She's right about that, and if she likes this guy, maybe we should support her."

   Phoebe huffed in exasperation, stalking out of the room, leaving me sitting there by myself as Eliza Doolittle sang happily that she could've danced all night. She was the only one on earth, possibly that felt like that, and she obviously wasn't even real. 

   After an hour, I got up from the couch, setting everything to rights before stopping in my room with a lump in my throat. I locked the door before squatting down and pulling out each drawer, one by one until I felt a slick piece of paper on the bottom right one, my fingers trembling as I pulled it carefully off. A neatly folded map was marked with a single red circle around a town that made me laugh and cry at the same time, large unfettered tears dripping down my cheeks. 

   They were headed for Morning Star, Virgina.


	32. Confess Your Sins, or Suffer the Consequences

   My rosary swung lightly back and forth from my hand as I watched, the red, crystal beads catching the dawning light through Negan's wide windows. It was an antique, a gift from Father Thomas when I'd joined the church. They were his, he'd told me with his gentle smile. "You're the closest thing I've ever had to a daughter, and I want you to have them."

   They were one of my most treasured items, along with my Bible, and I'd spent a portion of the long night thinking about him. Would he still be proud of me, if he could see me now? I was lying in wait in the bed of the man in black, my lover, for all intents and purposes. A man that I'd surreptitiously plotted against to help a friend. Something that was done with good intentions, but it was still a betrayal. 

   I was altogether disappointed in myself and extremely pleased with my ingenuity, save for a lingering sadness that Sherry was gone. There was also the guilt of now having to lie about my part in it when he came back and found out that they were gone, and it had kept me up for pretty much the entire night. Just beyond that were scattered thoughts and worries for whatever events had unfolded outside the walls of the Sanctuary, and the nameless people from Alexandria. Did they fight back? Would Negan even return at all?

   All in all, it let me with an unsettled, discombobulated feeling that I couldn't shake, and I shut my eyes for a moment, drawing up the face of the kindly man who'd treated me better than my own actual father had. He'd been gentle and patient with me, maybe even sensing that my background had been so troubled, so turbulent, that he may have known I was running from my own past. 

   I was now adrift, tossing back and forth in an ocean of emotions, a mixture of regret and hope, unsure how they could possibly co-exist. But thrown in there was also the knowledge that I had someplace else to go if Negan ever learned of my deception. I could also hope that he'd understand why I did what I did, and maybe forgive me one day.

   The one thing I knew for certain is that I couldn't just confess. Something told me to just let it play out on its own. Sherry would definitely be angry with me if I caved in to him. 

   Threading the beads through my fingers, I began to pray, rubbing my thumb over each one as I recited the corresponding prayer in my head. Twenty-three Hail Marys and three Our Fathers later, my lips were moving feverishly as the door opened, and I kept my eyes closed, too afraid to see what fate had brought back to me. 

   It wasn't until I felt soft, cool lips on my temple that I opened my eyes, and I found the man in black standing over me, watching the cross move from side to side in my shaky hand. 

   "You been praying for me, Angel?" he asked in a tired voice as I looked up at him.

   "Someone has to." My words were gentle, barely able to be heard as he shrugged out of his jacket. It was hard to miss the spattered blood that lined the top of his white shirt, and Negan laid the leather covering on the floor. It, too, would need a good cleaning, and I said one more prayer for whoever's blood it was, that they found peace, no matter what they'd done. 

   Without a word, he went into the bathroom, and I could hear the shower run, a short little whistle rising and falling through the sound of the water. Remaining on my side, I continued my path through the rosary, each bead meaning something new. An Our Father for Negan. A Hail Mary for Sherry and Dwight. One for me, and a separate, silent prayer that didn't fit on the jeweled beads, now reminding me of drops of blood.

  _I know I've been straying from the path, Lord. I hope it's because that's your plan for me. I pray that you keep guiding me, and show me what's right when I can't always judge it for myself. Please keep the ones I love safe, and help them to know right from wrong._

   My lips must've been moving again, because rough fingers brushed across my mouth, breaking me from my near trance, and I looked up to see Negan, wrapped in a towel with a gloomy look on his face. "What else did you pray for, Angel?"

   I scooted back in the bed, lifting the covers for him to climb in, and he settled down nude with a tired groan, motioning for me to get closer. I didn't respond until my head was laying on his chest where he couldn't see my eyes.

   "I prayed for you, and I prayed for myself, that I was staying on the right path."

   His arm tightened around my waist, but I continued on. "I also prayed for those that died tonight, that they find some peace, or forgiveness for what they've done."

   A sharp rush of breath hit the top of my scalp, and he lifted his arm, turning to the side as he eased my head off of him. It wasn't in me to argue with him or defend my beliefs, so I curled up behind him, slipping my arm underneath his, resting my hand on his chest. He didn't push me away at least, but it was quiet for several minutes.

   "Did you sleep at all?" he asked shortly, and I murmured a quiet 'no'. 

   "I was worried about you. Worried _for_ you."

   "I know what I'm doing, believe it or not," he muttered in a gruff voice, his side rising and falling underneath my arm. The rosary was still in my grasp, and he tried to take it from me, but my fingers clenched automatically around it as if it were my own personal talisman. 

   "I never said that you didn't," was my only response, and I kissed the back of his neck. He let go of the cross, and I felt it moving once again. "I'm just glad that you're back."

   "Hmm," he muttered in a sleepy voice, shifting his head slightly. "Fucking tired. It took me all night to break their leader."

    _Hail Mary, full of grace_

_the Lord is with thee_

   "Break him?"

   Negan rolled over underneath my embrace, and his eyes were barely open as he gave me a tired smile. 

   "If he hadn't started a war with me, I think I'd like the fucker. He's strong. He obviously cares about his people, but he's sloppy. He doesn't think three steps ahead."

   Leaning over him, I set the rosary carefully down on the nightstand, and it clicked lightly on the wood surface to free my hand, which began to stroke through his hair. 

   "Do you...think it's over?" I asked hesitantly as his eyes popped open, and he struggled to focus on my face, clearly running on fumes. 

   "For now," he said, tipping his forehead so that it was touching mine. "I had to do some questionable shit, but I saw in his eyes that he's shattered. He's got too many people that he feels responsible for, and even though he only lost two of them, it'll haunt him for years. But they're not like the other groups, Angel. He'll have to be watched, very carefully, or else we could end up in a war, and a lot more people are going to die."

   All I could do was let out an anxious sigh, and Negan shushed me.

   "Don't worry, sweet girl. I know what I'm doing, and I always have a plan."

   "I don't want anyone else to die, Negan, least of all you."

   "People are always going to die," he said crisply, and I shut my eyes. "They always have and they always will. My job is to make sure that it's not us. Not for a long time."

   I couldn't talk about it anymore, so I just nodded my head, my fingers combing through his hair until his breathing evened out, leaving me alone with my thoughts until I, too, drifted off into a light sleep. 

   We were both jolted awake by a rapid pounding on the door no more than an hour later, and Negan sat up with a grumble. 

   "Someone better be on their fucking deathbed right now," he swore as my heart beat double-time, because I knew and he didn't what was going on. He lurched to his feet, waving me back as he hastily put on a pair of pants and slipped from the room, shutting the door behind him. 

   They know. They know and he's going to lose his mind.

   I laid on my back, taking deep breaths as I fought my own system, the tension of what was about to happen making my skin crawl and my mouth tremble. 

    _He's not my father. He promised to never hurt me._

   I said it over and over in my head as the outside door opened and closed with a bang, and I scrambled out of the bed to change my clothes. Before I'd taken two steps, he came back in, looking eerily calm.

   "Angel, where's Sherry?"

   I looked at him with what I hoped was a blank expression, feeling a flush spread over my chest and neck. 

   "In her room. Why?"

   "You sure about that?" he asked in the same even tone.

   "She was last night when I checked on her. What's happening?"

   The fear in my voice was authentic and appropriate as I edged my way towards him. "Please tell me what's happening."

   "Do not leave this fucking room until I get back."

   He turned on his heel, whipping his bat over his shoulder as I stood there, rooted to the spot. The door to the hall was hanging wide open, and I saw Alicia and Phoebe watching Negan as he stormed past them with Simon in tow behind him. As they started down the steps, Simon looked back at me, his face a mask of worry. 

   Once they were completely out of sight, my trembling legs carried me over to the couch, where I dropped down with a grunt, rocking slowly back and forth. I should've just gone with them. There was no way I could handle this. I wasn't strong enough. I wasn't a good enough liar. He'd see right through me, and I'd end up in a cell, being tortured, beaten, deprived of everything. 

   "Marie?"

   My head snapped up as I saw Alicia and Phoebe hovering outside, both of them pale and worried. 

   "Did something happen?" Phoebe asked, hesitating before she came in, perching next to me as I continued to rock, curling my arms around my chest. 

   "I don't know," I lied, my lips quivering. "He asked me where Sherry was and took off."

   Alicia ducked back out, walking with quick steps down to Sherry's room, where she peeked in. When she came back, her entire demeanor was that of terror, and she sat on the other side of me. 

   "Some of her things are missing," she whispered, grasping at my arm. "She took off."

   I let out a moan as I started to cry, both my real emotions and my fabricated ones merging together into an indecipherable blur. The very genuine pain of acknowledging her absence was like a blow to my system, and I hunched over my knees as both women tried to comfort me. 

   "She left," I rambled into my legs. "She left me, she left me."

   The entire top floor was silent except for my shuddering moans until the metal door flew open an indeterminate time later, slapping against the wall, and Negan came stomping down towards us, his face mottled with rage and determination.   
Gavin, Simon and a few other men trailed along in his wake as the three of us sat huddled together on his couch, the combined shaking between us enough to mirror an earthquake.

    _He's not your father. He's not going to hurt you._

   "When was the last time you saw her?" he asked roughly, pointing his bat in our general direction as Phoebe let out a squeak.

   Simon's stance behind him was so tense that if I lobbed a penny at him, it would probably bounce off of him and embed itself into the wall. 

   "Last night," I managed to say as he stared me down. "She was passed out in her room, hungover."

   "We saw Dwight leaving close to dark," Alicia stammered, her nails digging into my side so hard that I flinched away from the contact. "He was driving one of those box trucks. We thought he was going to see you."

   Negan turned towards Simon, who stood up straighter after flicking his eyes towards me.

   "I want every man and woman that can track out of this fucking compound right now. North, south, east, and west. I want them found, and brought back to me alive."

   Simon nodded resolutely before ushering the others out of the room. "You heard the man," he thundered as the sound of footsteps faded away after Negan slammed the door, making us all jump. 

   "You two," Negan barked, pointed that damned bat again, "go to your rooms and don't move until I tell you to."

   Phoebe and Alicia got up unsteadily, clinging to each other as they hurried out, leaving me alone with the man in black. 

   The air between us was thick as my hands shook uncontrollably, and I flinched as he approached me, causing him to slow down, though his face was still terrifying. 

   "I'm not going to hurt you, Angel," he said in a soft voice, but he was still carrying Lucille, and that's all I could focus on until he set it down on the coffee table, coming to kneel in front of me. I had to blink several times before I could look him in the eyes, and he took my shaky hands in his, squeezing them carefully.

   "I need the truth, sweetheart. I swear I won't lose my temper, and I won't hurt you. Did you know she was planning on leaving?"

   My breath hitched in my throat as I was pinned under his gaze, a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming truck, and I knew I was going to be sick. I tried to pull my hands from his, but his grip was like iron, and dawned on me way too late that I wasn't going to get out of this in any way, shape, or form. Only one, stunted, hushed word was able to form in my mouth, and it came out on its own before I could stop it.

   "Yes."

 

 


	33. The Penitent One

   "I'm going to need you to go to your room," he said flatly, standing up.

   "Negan, I-"

   "Marie, _go_. I don't want to say or do anything I might regret, and if I look at you right now, I will. _Just. Fucking. Go_."

   His shoulders were set so strongly that I scuttled around him, fleeing as if my entire body were on fire. Once I shut the door behind me, I heard a thundering crashing sound along with a lot of swearing, and I darned near ran to my room, sitting down on the bed with a cry.

   He would never forgive me, and the thought alone made me sick, right down to the soles of my feet. Underneath that was a spark of anger, because Negan was completely overlooking the fact that I was right in the middle of this mess because Sherry was so dear to me. She'd taken me under her wing when I'd been brought to this strange, unhappy, intimidating place.

   She'd helped to give me some confidence, and the ability to see that I was worth more than just a few hushed prayers and being a caregiver to a man who'd spent much of the end of the world slowly losing his mind. How could Negan possibly have expected me to rat her out?

   The next hour was one of the longest of my life as I sat leaning up against the headboard with my arms wrapped around my legs to shield my aching heart. That same heart began to pound rapidly as I heard heavy footsteps making their way towards me, and I tried to breathe, fighting the oncoming loss of oxygen.

   My doorknob seemed to move incrementally before he filled the entrance to my room with bloodshot eyes and alcohol fumes wafting off of him. He was drunk, or at least very tipsy and he shuffled towards me as I watched him with teary eyes.

   "Why?"

   That one word had me shuddering as I bent my head down, rubbing my runny nose across my knees.

   "She wasn't happy," I whispered into my legs, and I heard him advance towards me. The mattress wobbled as he bumped into it, and I looked up.

   "You betrayed me," he said, each word getting louder in the small room. "You lied to me. You have no respect for me or the things I do to keep this goddamned place running."

   "That's not true," I replied, but he held up his hand, rocking back slightly. "What did you expect me to do? You would've never let her go, even though you know this isn't what she wanted."

   "It doesn't matter!" he shouted, and I flinched at the sound, every cell in my body feeling like it had received an electric shock. "She made the choice to be up here. Those two stole from me and came crawling back here because they couldn't make it out there. Just like you."

   That hurt, more than I'd ever let on, and I shook my head.

   "I love her, and if she didn't get away, she would've killed herself," I murmured. "The same as Amber."

   "Amber was weak. Just like you."

   "I'm sorry, Negan. I am-"

   "Fucking save it, Marie. I don't believe you."

   "Please try to understand," I begged. "I didn't want to see anyone else die. I can't go through it again, and she would've done it. She would."

   He turned around, and I clambered off of the bed, reaching out for his arm, but he shook me off, opening the door.

   "I almost went with them. I was going to go with them."

   Negan froze, raising both arms and placing his hands flat on the door. "Why the fuck didn't you, then, since I'm the motherfucking devil?"

   I wanted to touch him so badly, to tell him that I loved him, but the words wouldn't come.

   "I had a million reasons to leave," I said with a cracking voice. "But I had only one reason to stay."

   The last bit of hope I had evaporated as he flung the door open, looking at me over his shoulders so coldly that I took a step back.

   "Not anymore, you don't."

   He didn't even bother to close it behind him, and I dropped to the floor on my knees, the sobs overpowering me. I had nothing. No hope, no one to care for me, and no idea what was going to happen to me.

 

 

   Negan called off the search two days later, having found the box truck abandoned ten miles away from the Sanctuary, not that he told me about it. Simon kindly let me know, since Negan had left the factory right after our confrontation, and I hadn't seen him since.

   Alicia and Phoebe had tried to talk to me, but there was nothing that could be said. All I could do was put one foot in front of the other, and that's what I did. Simon still insisted on training me, but I hadn't looked at the books once. They were sitting in Negan's room, along with my bible and rosary, abandoned on his dresser.

   Alicia had offered to go in and get them, but I declined, fearing what would happen if he returned and discovered even one thing out of place. I knew that they were worried about my mental state, but I couldn't find it in myself to even care about my things.

   I woke up, I went to the cafeteria to eat. I trained for hours, and then I went to my room, staring up at the ceiling until it was time to get up again.

   On the third day, I sat next to the fence sucking down a bottle of water after killing several walkers with only a knife when Simon got down next to me, lighting a cigarette.

   "He's coming back today," he informed me before taking a long drag, and I began to shake. Pure, unadulterated fear coursed through my veins as I started to get to my feet.

   "Can you put me in another room?" I asked as he looked up at me, blinking in the sun. "The one he got for me when he offered to let me move?"

   "Are you serious?"

   "Simon, please," I pleaded, reaching down to grab his arm to pull him up. "Is it still empty?"

   He stood up with a groan, tossing his cigarette into the dirt, stamping it out with his boot as he trudged towards the cafeteria. I followed behind him, starting to sweat as I looked at the gate fearfully. I wasn't only afraid of seeing Negan because I thought he would berate me. I also didn't want to be witness to his almost sure return to Phoebe and Alicia. My heart was broken, and I'd been dismissed so casually that I still felt like I had whiplash.

   I could see his side. I could. But the mere fact that he couldn't see mine was just another reminder that we were so different, and I was so lost in my head that I walked right into a man that I'd never seen before.

   "I'm very sorry," I apologized as I stumbled backward, taking in the filthy man that was mopping the floor. Everything about him was dirty, from his crud covered sweatsuit to the lank, stringy hair that hung in his eyes. His fingernails had probably an entire field's worth of soil and soot under them, but the most disturbing thing was the sheer amount of cuts and bruises that covered his face.

   He grunted at me before dropping his head as Simon rounded back to see what the heck happened to me.

   "Do we have a problem here?" he asked coldly as the man started to mop again, hunching his shoulders as I looked between the two of them in confusion. Negan and the Saviors weren't exactly warm and fuzzy, but I'd never seen Simon so needlessly mean.

   "It's my fault," I interjected. "I wasn't watching where I was going."

   The man's eyes darted to me before dropping back down towards the floor, and Simon put a protective hand on my upper arm.

  "Don't apologize to him," Simon said shortly as he started to drag me away. "Never apologize to prisoners."

   My mouth dropped open in shock as I looked back to see the man watching me. I couldn't help giving him a sympathetic look before turning my head forward. "He's a prisoner? How? Why?"

   "He's one of the assholes from Alexandria that was in the lineup the other day."

   "You took him?"

   He didn't answer me, steering me up the steps to the fourth floor, leading me down the hall to a room that stood open and empty. It was small and spartan, but it was free and I looked around quickly before getting confirmation from Simon that it was mine. It kind of reminded me of my room at the rectory.

   "Go get your stuff," he told me, leaning against the door frame. "I don't want to be around when he gets back and finds out you're not up there."

   "He'll be glad," I said morosely, heading towards the steps before returning. "This won't get you in trouble, will it?"

   "Don't worry about me, kid. I'll be fine."

   It was a painful, obvious admission that I was probably making the right decision since he wasn't worried about Negan's reaction on his end, and I swallowed down the suffocating lump in my throat before hurrying back upstairs.

   After packing up only my most essential things, leaving all of the dresses and frilly things behind, I took one last look around the space that had been my home for the last few months, and I set down my bag, having to do only one more thing. I left it sitting there as I went to Negan's door, stopping short as my vision began to blur, and with tremulous movements, I removed the necklace that marked me as his, hanging it on his doorknob.

   It was done. Over. I was now just a regular Sanctuary member, and I dragged my bag behind me as I went down to the fourth floor where Simon was still waiting. He studied me as I approached him, his lips forming a tight line when he saw my bare neck, but he didn't say anything other than that he'd see me to finish training after lunch.

   All I could do was give him a half-hearted smile, closing the door behind him.

   Less than ten minutes later, I looked around at my new area in a semi-haze. The walls were bare, and I realized with growing sadness that I'd left my lavender wreath that I got from Charlie upstairs, and for some reason, that sent me into a spiral. I started to cry, an ugly sight, sitting on the floor of my faded grey industrial carpet, my body shaking as I felt lower than I ever knew I could feel. In three months, I found new lows over and over, it seemed.

   I missed Sherry. I ached for Negan, who hated me, and I wanted to go home. Back to the rectory, where I could live alone, eating stupid walnuts and watching over Father Thomas and the Sisters.

   And then it hit me like a thunderbolt, spurring me to my feet. I took off at a run, skipping every other step as I crashed through the metal door to the top floor and sprinted back to my room. Cursing to myself, I shut the door one last time, locking it for good measure.

   With my breath held tight, I opened the bottom right drawer, peeling the map off the underside and tucking it carefully in my pocket. I'd forgotten about my one link to Sherry, and I'd almost lost her forever.

   When I emerged, my wreath was in my hands, and I saw Phoebe coming out of the lounge. She gave me a nervous look, and I tried to smile, but it was more of a grimace.

   "What are you doing?"

   "Uh, I'm taking this to my new room," I said nervously, edging around her.

   "What do you mean, 'your new room'?" she prodded, following behind me.

   "I moved myself downstairs, since..." I trailed off, not able to put it into words.

   "Marie, don't do this" she warned me, but I kept walking, knowing if I didn't get out of here, the chances of seeing Negan would increase, and I just couldn't do it. The longer I could go without having to face that hate in his eyes, the better it would be for my mental well-being, and I gave her a wave before booking back down the steps.

   It was a good thing I did, because he was back and I heard his voice rising through the stairwell as he climbed towards the top. He was just a floor below me when I shot through the door, leaning against the wall as I heard him pass by, feeling like I would be sick. Once his voice faded away, I went back to my room, setting the wreath on the tiny dresser, wiping my sweaty palms on my jeans.

   I couldn't leave my room, now, and I didn't want to, not even to find the nearest bathroom since the urge to throw up was increasing. So I sat on my bed, swallowing down the sickening sensation and unlacing my boots before setting the old alarm clock that sat on the tiny dresser so that I could meet Simon to train.

   Once I flipped off the light, I was left alone with only my thoughts, and I hoped that Sherry and Dwight made it to their new home. I and the dirty man on the main floor were both prisoners. Him, by being from Alexandria and daring to go up against Negan. Me, by caring too much about others, and daring to go up against Negan.

   Reaching out through the darkness of my windowless room, I brushed my fingers over the wreath, pulling out a few dried buds and clutching them in my hand, holding it by my nose to calm myself. When I drifted off to sleep, I dreamt of Charlie.

   We were standing in a large purple field, the breeze blowing the sweetly fragrant flowers around my legs, tickling them gently. He didn't talk, he just smiled at me as I lifted my face to the sun, letting the warmth of its rays and the softness of the flowers comfort me. It was peaceful, and even though I knew it wasn't real, I wanted to stay there forever, basking in the serenity that surrounded me.

   I was not given that luxury, because a ringing sound permeated the air, disrupting the good feelings. Confused, I opened my eyes to see that it was my alarm, and standing just beyond it watching me with limpid eyes was Negan, holding Lucille and his necklace, each clenched in a fist.


	34. The Mary Magdalene Of It All

  _He's not your father. He won't hit you._

   I'd had to change my mantra slightly in light of recent events. Negan would, and did hurt me, very deeply. We both hurt each other, apparently, and I clutched the lavender tightly in my hand as I watched his face. It didn't escape his attention, and his eyes dropped to the wreath that sat by my head.

   "Who told you that you could switch rooms?" he charged, giving me a sneer.

   I sat up, swinging to face him as I crossed my legs, still holding the fragrant buds, trying to breathe through the panic that was trickling down my spine. "You did," I said softly, still with a sleepy voice. "The other day in your room."

   His knuckles were white around the handle of Lucille, but he tossed the necklace into my lap. The metal was warm, and it sat in the crook where my calves met each other. He'd obviously been holding it, and it had soaked up the warmth of his skin. I picked it up with the tips of my fingers, setting in on the bed.

   "Put it back on."

   I shook my head, avoiding his eyes, but he took two steps forward. "I _said_ , put it on."

   "No."

   Lifting my eyes slowly, I braced myself for another hateful look, but there was only frustration there.

   "You're still under my protection, no matter what."

   "I don't want it, and I don't need it," I insisted, unfolding my legs and standing up so that we were only a foot apart. "I don't want to do this anymore. I just want-"

   "What?" he interrupted, closing the gap, still holding the bat. "What more could you possibly fucking want from me?"

   "I never wanted anything from you," I hissed, wiping away the tears that slid down my cheeks. "You brought me here and put me with those women. You made me spend time with them, to start to care about them, and now you're blaming me and hating me for doing what comes naturally to me. What I've always done."

   "Lying to me? Going behind my back and making me look weak to the rest of these people?" he growled, towering over me as he tossed Lucille onto the bed next to the necklace. "I've lost Amber, Carolyn, Mickey, and now those two since you've come along. How do you think that looks to the dumbasses that I'm leading?"

   "I said I was sorry, but I'm not going to say it again. In fact, I'm only sorry now that you don't really know me at all. That you can't yell or torment who I am out of me. I thought that was what you liked about me."

   "It doesn't mean I'll just let you fucking do whatever you want whenever you want to. There are rules here, and rule number fucking one is that you don't go behind my back. For anything," he said, getting so close that we were nose to nose.

   I wanted to run. To escape from his anger and from his face. It was too close to mine, reminding me of what we had. What I had just a few days ago, and I shut my eyes.

   "Why did you have to do this to me?" I whispered, easing to the side so that I could make a quick break for it since I was nearing the verge of losing my mind.

   "Do what?"

   It was too late to stop now, and I pushed the words from my body, hoping that if I put them out into the cosmos, they would float away and disappear, taking my feelings with them.

   "Make me fall in love with you, when you knew it would be conditional to you. Everything is always conditional where you're concerned. I forgave you for the things you've done to me, but I don't get the same from you," I rasped, bolting for the door before I opened my eyes.

   I didn't give him a chance to respond. I just booked it away from him, but I didn't make it. Negan grabbed me by the waist, pulling me flush against his chest as I struggled, only wanting to lick my wounds far away from him, but he was much stronger than I was, and we moved back to the bed, where he sat down with me in between his legs.

   "Please, don't," I whimpered, trying to get free, but he wasn't giving up. "Don't do this to me. Not again."

   "Just give me some time, Angel," he murmured into the back of my hair, and I let out a deep breath, the fight leaving my body. He'd called me Angel, and I put my hands on top of his, leaning back against him with a sense of relief. "I just need a little time, and you have to stop running away every time there's a conflict."

   I couldn't speak, but I nodded, and we sat there for a few minutes together until I got to my feet to let him up when he finally let go of me. He picked up his bat and then he kissed the top of my head, handing me the necklace, letting his hand linger on top of mine.

   "I want you back upstairs tonight. Until then, you train with Simon," he said as he walked out of my room, closing the door behind me.

   Sitting back down heavily, I stared at the pendant in my palm, the N glittering even in the dim light of my room. I wasn't really thinking about anything in particular. There were just random thoughts flittering through my brain. The smell of lavender from the wreath, the lingering remnants of Negan's kiss on the top of my head, and the faint hope that he could move on with me.

   It wasn't much, but it was enough to hang my hat on, and I set the chain on the desk next to the flowers, lacing my boots and grabbing my knife on the way out the door to meet Simon.

 

   It was dark, and we were still working, both of us covered in sweat as he continued to wholeheartedly throw punches at me. I tried blocking them the best that I could, but my energy was sapped, and I hadn't eaten since breakfast. Losing my concentration, I was late to his thrust, and he connected with my shoulder, sending me to the ground on my butt.

   "Shit, kid, are you okay?" he asked as I rubbed the throbbing spot.

   "I'll live," I gasped, poking at the tender area. "But I hope this puts an end to our day, because I'm exhausted and now in pain."

   He hauled me to an upright position, and I started towards the factory with him trailing behind me.

   "Negan came to see me," he offered, catching up to me as I rounded the corner, and I shrugged.

   "I figured. Sorry."

   "Well, he wasn't pissed at me, for once."

   There were crickets chirping in the distance, barely heard over the moans of the walkers that were attached to the fences, and I watched as the guards changed shifts for the night. It reminded me of the men that stood outside Buckingham Palace, not that I'd ever seen them in person or anything. But they always looked so stoic and alert, always watching for danger. So did these guys.

   "Simon, do you think we'll ever be safe again?" I asked suddenly, and he chuckled sarcastically.

   "Were we ever really safe before?"

   "Well, we weren't always on the verge of being eaten," I replied drily, and he huffed with laughter. "So, yeah, I'd say it was safer before. What I mean is, do you think we'll always have to stand guard? Always have to train? Or will we kill out most of them at some point, and be able to rebuild."

   "I hope so, kid," he said as we walked into the sparsely populated cafeteria. "The odds probably aren't the best, since what, maybe one one-hundredth of the United States survived? That's a lot of walkers to kill out."

   "Ye, of little faith," I teased, feeling lighter than I had in days. I still had a chance to get back what I'd lost, and Simon noticed the change.

   "Things went okay?" he asked as we passed by a woman who gave him a shy smile. She was older than I was but younger than him, and she was pretty, with chestnut brown hair and kind eyes. He didn't look at her any longer than a passing glance, but I had the feeling that they were an item, and I turned around to watch her leave, her arms swinging back and forth as she turned the corner towards the marketplace.

   "They went as good as they could've, I think," I replied in a distracted tone. "Who was that?"

   "Who was who?" he remarked, shooting off towards the food line as I kept pace.

   "Simon," I wheedled, poking him in the back. "You know what I'm talking about. The girl that just smiled at you."

   "I have no idea what you're referring to."

   Looking up at him, I saw a twinkle in his eye and a smirk underneath his mustache, and I let it drop. If he found someone nice, I was happy for him. It's what we all wanted at the end of the day, I think, and we took our food to an empty table near the entrance since the doors were open, letting a nice breeze blow into the large room.

   The conversation died out as we ate, and I rubbed absently at my shoulder since it was still tender. The only other thing of note in the factory was the prisoner man, who was picking up trash that littered the floor. He was even dirtier than he was earlier, but that wasn't what caught my eye. It was the fact that he was watching me with a mixture of curiosity and hatred, and I felt my insides recoiling. He looked at me like I was a Savior, one of the people that put him in this tenuous position.

   Dropping my head, I pushed the rest of my food away towards Simon, who scooped it onto his plate, since he wasn't a big believer in wasting things.

   "Where are you keeping him?" I asked quietly as Simon's head popped up, searching for who I was talking about. Once he spied the man, his mouth turned down and he gave me a warning look.

   "In a cell, where he belongs when he's not doing manual labor."

   "Why, though? Why even let him out?"

   "Negan's working on trying to change Daryl's allegiance," Simon informed me as I shivered slightly.

   "You don't honestly think he'd turn against his group, do you? I mean, would you?"

   "I wouldn't sneak into a building in the middle of the night and slaughter a bunch of sleeping people I'd never met before," he announced loudly. Loud enough for the man, Daryl, to hear, and his face got even more hateful. "Therefore, I would never be in Daryl's position."

   "Well, uh, what use is he going to be when he dies from an infection or something? Can't he at least see the doctor and get cleaned up?" I asked, shrinking under Simon's unconcerned expression until he rolled his eyes.

   "I'll ask, all right? That's the best I can do."

   I gave him a genuine smile, patting his hand as he reached for my tray.

   "You have my eternal gratitude."

   "A nun til the end," he muttered, taking them back over to be washed and I shook my head. One didn't have to be a nun to want people to be treated like human beings and not cockroaches. Even people in prison before the fall were given medical care. It wasn't a novel idea and I expressed that as he walked me back to the stairs past the man.

   "I know it's hard for you to understand, but Negan has to tear him down to build him back up again," Simon uttered as we started up the long climb to the third and fourth floor. "There's no telling what that guy could do if he ever got free here."

   "I get that," I argued as we stopped on the third-floor landing, and Simon leaned against the brick wall, watching me with a serious face. "But if you never show kindness, you for sure won't get any in return. Say he did get free. Wouldn't you want him to remember that we weren't monsters? Just people trying to live and restore some order?"

   He snorted lightly before opening the door and taking a few steps through.

   "You're a nice girl. Too nice, and one day it's going to bite you in the ass. But I'll ask, okay?"

   "Thank you. You're always good to me."

   He nodded as he sauntered down the hall, whistling that same annoying tune that Negan did, and it reminded me that I had to pack my stuff back up to return to the top floor. If I didn't, I'd probably get in trouble, and I didn't want him even more upset after we'd made some progress today.

   So, my sore shoulder and I went up one more floor, and I stopped back into the room that had been my temporary station for not even a day. It only took me a few minutes to get my meager belongings that I'd brought with me, and I shoved them all back into my bag before studying the two items left on the dresser, the necklace and the wreath.

   Both items that seemed to encapsulate the men I'd gotten them from perfectly. One was cheery and sweet, bringing me a sense of calm and peace. The other was beautiful and eye-catching, drawing attention to itself in almost a gaudy way, and to me along with it. My hands hovered over both, and a perverse wish to combine them together to make the perfect man settled over me, making me chuckle sardonically. But, there was no such thing as the perfect man or person. Only flawed, complicated human beings, and Charlie was no doubt one of them, though I didn't know exactly what the flaws were since I'd only spent an abbreviated amount of time with him.

   Negan's were front and center, obviously, but they were there for me to see and navigate through. And to me, there was more good than bad in him. Enough to love, and to want to be loved by him, which spurred me to leave the wreath behind, and with it, my what-ifs for the nice guy that gave it to me.

   I closed the door behind me, and I walked my tired body back up to the top floor, peeking out before I went to my room to drop off my bag. The lounge was empty and Phoebe and Alicia's doors were shut, which was fine by me. I wasn't quite ready to talk to them, and I really wanted to get a shower since the sweat and dirt from training all day in the hot sun had left me feeling sticky and disgusting.

   Negan's door was closed, too, and I gathered up some supplies, treating myself to a long, blissful shower, my heart speeding up every now and again as I thought about him.

   We hadn't been intimate for a few days, not since he went to Alexandria, and I missed being with him. Along with that came the old insecurities, and I worried about the days he was gone. There were female Saviors, and a few of them were very pretty. He'd made the commitment to remain faithful, but in light of our 'breakup', did he still keep his word?

   With a mental sigh, I added it to the neverending list of things we'd probably have to clear up as I toweled myself off and got dressed. Once my hair was dry, I stepped back out into the hall just in time to see a strange woman with long, black hair knock on Negan's door.

   She was wearing a black dress and heels, and I ducked back into the bathroom feeling like I was going to pass out. The creak of his door opening let his voice drift out into the hall, and I gripped the sink as his words carried to my ears.

   "Hey, darlin'. Thanks for coming."

   His door shut with a final sound, and my heart broke with it, since I had my answer.


	35. The Cunning Serpent Strikes

   There was a cluster of birthmarks on my arm, and they caught my eye as I set my clothes on the top of the dresser. I'd never noticed them before, these smooth, pale brown splotches that were set in a crescent-moon pattern on my left forearm. Why I noticed them now, I didn't know, but they made me stop in my tracks as I ran my fingers over them, spurring me to check my arms for any other interesting shapes.

   One set I dubbed Orion's belt since there were three chocolate colored ones that sat in a row. Another that sat just above my right elbow that made me think of an ink blot with its uneven edges and interesting design. It took my mind off of what I was doing for just a few minutes. Enough time for Negan to come knocking on my door and entering without waiting for my permission.

   Startled, I dropped my hands, turning away from him to open another drawer and pull out more clothing, setting it on top of the one that already tilted perilously towards the edge.

   "Correct me if I'm wrong, Angel, but the clothes are supposed to go into the dresser, not on top of it," he said in a teasing voice, sidling up behind me and putting his hands on my shoulders. 

   I elbowed him in the stomach and he let out a grunt, shuffling back a foot as I took out the next drawer. 

   "Not for me," I said in a firm voice, starting another stack as he reached out to spin me around. "They'll go in the fourth-floor dresser much better."

   "What the fuck is going on _now_?" he asked, annoyed to no end, and I threw his necklace towards him, where it butted up against his stomach and dropped to the floor. 

   "You can have that back," I informed him, turning away from him. "Give it to your new wife."

   He started to chuckle which only made me angrier, and I heard a metallic tinkle as he picked it up. 

   "Hey-" he said, but I slammed the dresser drawer so loudly that he stopped, and I met his eyes in the mirror. 

   "Two days," I whispered, hating that my eyes were red and puffy. "Two days out and you've already got another woman up here, in your room when you knew I'd be coming up here. I suppose it's because you wanted me to see it. To hurt me, and make me feel horrible. Well, mission accomplished."

   His smile faded and he tossed the necklace onto my bed, pinching the bridge of his nose as I resumed my work, folding my bras and undergarments to pack up. I couldn't fight anymore and I didn't want to. This wasn't who I was, and I'd gone my entire life not bending my will to a man. I'd always found more out of the world, and I wanted to get back to that. I needed to hit 'reset' and move on.

   Negan was only going to look out for himself, that much was a given, and I was not meant to be here. Maybe other people could subject themselves to repeated humiliation, but I couldn't do it. I couldn't be my mother, waiting around for a cataclysmic event to get me into motion, to start thinking about myself, and I started to fill my bag, rough movements making my shoulder ache.

   "She's my new wife, Marie, and I had to talk to her to explain how things work around here."

   "Do whatever you want, Negan. You always do. But I won't be an audience to your continued bullshit. I'd rather be downstairs with someone like Charlie, if he'll still have me. Even as a friend."

   He erupted on the spot, yanking my sore arm roughly as I let out a cry, and he tossed me onto the bed. I lashed out from the pain, striking him in the chest, and he swore under his breath.

   "I swear to God, if you hit me again," he warned me. Me, the daughter of a horrible man didn't care right then, so I headbutted him, my skull connecting with his chin, and it made a sickening sound, shocking me back into compliance and making my forehead burn. I'd done it again. Resorted to violence because I was upset, and it all tied back to Negan. 

   I'd hit Carolyn because she'd insinuated that he'd slept with her, and I'd done it again to him because he was sleeping with another woman. Something about him fried my circuits, destroying my decorum and my gentle nature, and I hated him for it.

  "I'm not sleeping with her, you fucking nut. She's gay," he howled, letting go of me to cradle his chin, his right eye watering as I panted in my own agony, rubbing my shoulder.

  "If you would've let me talk, I could've told you that, but you had to act like a goddamned martyr once again."

   "Screw you," I shrieked, pushing him off of me, but he latched onto my torso, pulling me on top of his chest and locking his hands around my face, forcing me to kiss him. 

   I tried to fight it. I really did, but the urgency of his lips and the fact that he was clearly turned on, since the evidence was digging into my stomach left me as weak as a newborn kitten, whimpering into his touch and knocking his hands away so that I could dig my own into his hair. 

   Returning his advances, I ground my hips against his, kissing him back with the passion and anger that I felt, all of it washing over me in a wave of emotion and response to the heightened events of the preceding days. God help me, because I couldn't help myself, and my legs wound themselves with his until we were a tangle of body parts, each trying to gain the upper hand.

   But his strength far outmatched mine, and I was flipped over once again as he rubbed himself against my thighs with abandon, like he hadn't had sex in years, muffling my gasps and groans as his mouth covered mine, his tongue performing ministrations that were probably illegal in several parts of the world. 

   I wasn't even aware that his hand had slipped under the hem of my shirt until a sharp pinch to my nipple caused my back to arch up into the act, and I clawed at his back, earning a growling hiss into my face. 

   "You need fucking punished, Angel," he muttered, dragging his stubble across my jaw as he increased the pressure on my breast, and I deepened the hold on his skin with my nails. "Fucking hitting me and accusing me of cheating on you," he scolded, using his teeth to bring the blood up to the surface, adding another throbbing spot to my overworked body. 

   I wanted to deny it, to push him away from me and defend my actions, ones that he'd provoked from me, but I didn't. I became pliable under his hands, and he chuckled, the heat from his breath fanning out across my neck. 

   "Because you push me too far," I finally gasped, pinching the soft skin on his side, and he raised himself up on his elbows once he pulled his hand from under my shirt, smirking at me. 

   "I know," he grinned as his hips continued to move in slow circles, making my inner walls contract automatically. "Part of me loves it when you call me on my shit. You're the only one that can."

   My eyes rolled back in my head, and he petted my hair, whispering into my ear. "Say it again."

   "Say what?"

   "That you love me."

   My eyelids fluttered as he stopped moving, and I looked up into a face that was no longer cocky or overly confident. He was yearning, and his brown eyes were swimming with sentiment and desire, waiting to hear the words when I wasn't in tears and on the run. 

   I stepped out onto the ledge, taking the plunge, without guile and not expecting anything in return, losing myself in his gaze.

   "I love you, Negan."

   The smile that spread over his features was almost childlike, a direct contrast to the masculine essence that was pressed into me, and he kissed me softly on the mouth, the index finger on his right hand stroking my cheek. 

   "You do, don't you? You really do." 

   "You won," I admitted, leaning into his touch. "You always will."

   He resumed his movements, reigniting the fire that quietly smoldered during my confessional, and I was nearly blown away by what followed.

   "I love you, too, Angel."

   I don't know why I was scared, but my hands were shaking when I reached up to cup his cheeks, wanting to make sure that this is real, that I wasn't dreaming. 

   A flash of when we met flooded my sight, that man in black contrasted against the shy, virginal woman in white, and I shook my head in wonder. 

   "What? You don't believe me?" he asked as I blinked rapidly, back in the here and now. 

   "I do," I said, lifting my head to kiss him. "We're perfect for each other." 

   His mouth became hungry and searching again, pressing every button I had as he ramped up his caresses, hurriedly unzipping his pants. Meanwhile, I pulled my shirt off allowing him full access to my top half, and he took advantage, licking and biting every soft part of my torso. My shorts were hauled down, and I kicked free of them, the only one on the bed completely nude. 

   Negan lined himself up with my entrance, shoving in full force with a groan, angling my leg up so high that he was able to brush his beard along the back of my knee, raising goosebumps up and down my leg as he pumped at a frantic pace. 

   Each stroke, each move he made was calculated, intent on bringing a reaction that he had to have, from heaving breaths to little squeaks that told him how aroused and under his influence I was. But I didn't want it to end quickly, this new place we'd visited together, and I used what little power I had to reverse our positions, giving me a different view of the man who said he loved me. 

   No, not said. Who actually _did_ love me. I could see it in his eyes. I could always see everything in his eyes. The beauty and the beastly. And he was mine, as much as I was his. 

   Moving at a snail's pace, I let my lips trail from his neck down his chest, stopping at several spots to explore, never rushing even though he'd dug his hands into my hair, pushing my head down south with impatience. It was his turn to be left writhing underneath me and to feel as exposed and overwrought as I had been, and when I reached his stomach, I saw that his head was thrown back in ecstasy, the veins in his neck standing at attention along with everything else on his body, his white shirt sitting comically up around his armpits.

   Smiling, I stopped until he noticed the lack of attention, and he lifted his head to start at me in confusion. 

   "You look ridiculous with your shirt up around your neck like a co-ed and your pants half off," I teased as Negan sat up, yanking it off and tossing it onto the floor. 

   "Well, I'm as fucking pent up as a pimply faced teenager over here, so get back to work, Angel," he barked as I got to my knees, removing his pants and setting them by the shirt that was pooled up in a ball. 

   I took a moment to just drink him in, all fine lines and dark hair sprawled out on my bed, temptation of the worst and most delicious sort, running my hands up his shins with the tips of my nails, thrilled when the skin reacted. 

   "Say it again," I commanded, my lips brushing against his thickness as he tried to push into my mouth. 

   "Goddamn it, Marie," he moaned, but I pressed my mouth closed, refusing to grant him access with a gleam in my eye. 

   "I love you," he finally choked out, and I bent down to please him, my mouth used as an outlet for his aggression, letting him pace himself as he held me steady. 

   He was close after only a few minutes, and I worked myself out from under his grip to straddle him, resting my hands on his chest as he guided himself in. Both of us let out a sigh at the same time, and he pressed me against his chest, making my backside elevate so that he could do all of the work while I used my tongue to lap at the tiny stream of perspiration that ran down the side of his neck where his hairline was. 

   "You're mine," he said in a deep, raspy voice. "All mine. Only mine."

   My insides were hot, blazingly so as he hit just the right spot, and I reached for the headboard, my nails scraping along the wooden top with a scratching sound as he turned his attention to my breasts, going from one to the other. It was a sensory immersion by Negan, and I succumbed to his touch and the feel of him, crying out so loudly that I was sure the entire factory heard it. 

   This was the second time we'd gone to completion without a condom, and we were flirting with disaster. After the previous time, I'd forgotten to get a pill, having had other more pressing concerns, and when Negan came, he bucked up wildly, holding my hips so tightly and securely that there was no way to tell him to pull out. 

   "We did it again," I panted, resting my head next to his as he took several deep breaths. 

   "Huh?"

   "No condom."

   "Aww, fuck," he muttered, though he didn't seem that concerned since he managed a few more weak thrusts as I sat up. 

   "Would kids be so bad?" 

   My eyes bugged out a little bit as he turned onto his stomach, ruining my blanket with the combined messiness that we'd both made. 

   "I don't think now is a good time to do any family planning," I managed to say as one eyebrow rose. His head was resting on his arms and he seemed way too nonchalant. "We've not exactly been on solid ground lately, and we haven't even been together that long."

   "I'm just sayin', I don't think it would be the worst thing."

   Oh, this was not a road I wanted to venture down right now, and thankfully something else caught my eye as I started to laugh. 

   "Your butt is sparkling," I informed him with a very unattractive cackle, and he hoisted his head up, looking over his shoulder with a grimace. The necklace was embedded in his right cheek, and I plucked it off, breaking out into a full-on hysteria when the indent of the N remained. "You marked yourself, smart guy."

   "You flung it at me, you jealous cow," he sniped, earning himself a pinch on the soft part of his underarm, which led to an erotic wrestling match that I lost handily. 

   An hour and another round of sex later, he settled under my covers, laying on his side as he watched me, and I shifted uncomfortably. Sometimes when he looked at me, I got self-conscious, not because I saw any judgement there. Just because I still reverted to that shy girl from high school. The one that moved around unseen, a ghost among the living, vibrant people that surrounded me. 

   "Can you look at something else?" I scoffed, holding my hand up to his face. He brought my fingers to his lips, kissing them with a smile when my face got red. 

   "Nope. Shut up and stop ruining my post-coital bliss."

   Burying my face in his chest, I felt myself relax for the first time in days, with strong arms around me and a steady, comforting heartbeat sounding in my ear. Sleep was well on its way, beckoning to me when he made the offhand comment that he wanted me to move my things into his room, and I glanced up unsurely. 

   "You belong with me all of the time, Angel."

   I didn't trust myself to speak, so I simply nodded, snuggling into my warm, safe spot, letting the security of his arms and his newly revealed love for me blanket me in a soft glow, my dreams of Charlie and lavender evaporating like a puddle in the desert, better dreams of days ahead taking its place.


	36. Give a Man a Fish...

   This was the only time I can remember that Negan didn't go rushing off first thing in the morning. My room wasn't as nice or as comfortable as his, but it was after seven and he was still lying next to me, tracing his name along my bare arm as I rolled my eyes.

   "Do you really have to put your name all over everything?" I asked as he grinned, breathing hot morning breath on my face. 

   "Of course," he deadpanned. "I _am_ everywhere after all."

  "You are right now," I grunted, shrugging out from under his dead weight, but he just repositioned himself so that his leg was swung over my waist, keeping me secure next to him. "Can I ask you something without you flipping out?"

   He looked down at me with a guarded smile, raising his eyebrows that I should go ahead.

   "Why another wife?"

   "Because I run this place, and there are certain expectations around my conduct. I have to keep to my motto."

   "Which is?"

   His features brightened as he ducked his head down towards my ear, and he let out a growling chuckle.

   "You know the old saying: 'Walk proudly and swing a big dick'?"

   My own face settled into a frown as Negan ran his nose along my cheek, and I flicked his ear. "Are you telling me that you perverted the old Teddy Roosevelt quote to that? What is wrong with you?"

   "I need to keep a larger than life profile around here, Angel. When these people think that I have everything and can take anything, they don't challenge me. They fear me and they defer to me."

   After all this time, and he still didn't get it. He saw them as lesser than him, too stupid to integrate into a civilized society.

   "I don't think the average Sanctuary member cares about a group of women sitting up on the top floor," I said mildly as he kneaded my breast, inching himself over my body. "They care about having enough to eat and a place to sleep."

   "You've only been here for a few months," he reminded me, spreading my legs with his knee. "This place was a fucking free-for-all. People raping and stealing. Acting like there were no rules. This is how I keep them in line, because if they see me as one of them, then they start to think that anything goes, and part of that is the wives. I'm a ringmaster. A showman, and I dazzle them with bullshit."

   "I get that. I do. But if you love me," I began, but he kissed me to shut me up, placing all of his weight above me.

   "Those women have nothing to do with you and I. They're a symbol, now. Nothing more. That's why I picked two that weren't going to be a threat or temptation."

   "Two?!"

   He had the grace to look abashed, at least, and he gave me that damned disarming smile. "They're both together. I told them for appearance's sake, they had to keep it platonic when my men were around."

   All I could do was take a deep breath, and let my frustrations go. He was in charge, not me, and if he wanted to keep the charade up, I wasn't going to give him grief about it. Not right now, anyway.   


 

   After taking some of my clothes into his room, we took a shower and got dressed for the day. Negan was slightly irritated that I only brought a few outfits into his room, grudgingly accepting my rationale that since he was keeping his wives, it wouldn't look good if I moved completely into his area, for my own protection. I didn't want anyone to see me in a different light, and I didn't want an unnecessary target on my back, content to be thought of as his ward and companion. 

   The only thing I couldn't help was the slight smugness when I'd spelled it out for him. He couldn't have it both ways, with new wives and then me as his live-in girlfriend. We'd have to keep separate rooms, though I told him that I'd spend most nights with him.

   Beyond a quick breakfast, I didn't have anything else scheduled, and I was far behind on the books since I hadn't touched them in days, but before I could start, I was pulled out into the hall to meet the new wives. 

   Negan put his arm securely around my shoulder as we headed for the lounge, kissing me on the temple before we walked in. Phoebe and Alicia were sitting across from the two new women, both of whom were very attractive, making me feel like the ugly duckling, once again. However, they had friendly smiles on their faces, and they stood up as Negan hauled me over with his signature smirk.

   "You must be Marie," said the tall, dark-haired one I'd seen go into his room. She had very refined features, with hazel eyes and pouty lips. She was thin, and had long arms and legs, reminding me of a flamingo."It's nice to put a face with the name. I'm Kim."

   I extended my hand to greet her, plastering what I hoped was a pleasant look on my face, murmuring a hello before turning to the other woman. She, too, was pretty, but seemed more down to earth than the other one, taking my hand without hesitation and clasping hers around it. 

   "You're right, Negan," she said with a lilting laugh, "she's a beauty. I'm Brittany, but you can just call me Brit."

   Brit was about my height, with shoulder-length sandy brown hair and eyes that were almost the exact same color. My cheeks flushed at her compliment, which only made her smile wider, and I glanced up at Negan questioningly, wondering what he had told them since we weren't on speaking terms when he'd met them out on the road. But he only waggled his eyebrows before going over some more of the ground rules.

   "If you need anything, let my Angel know," he finished up as Phoebe tilted her head to the side to study him. "Otherwise, make yourselves comfortable, but keep the PDA behind closed doors, and never around my men."

   I was left feeling like a madam in a brothel as he took my hand, leading me back out into the hallway, and I squinted at him as he fingered the sleeve of his jacket. 

   "What?"

   "I have to see to their happiness, now?"

   "Angel, I just want you to make sure they get settled, not pleasure them," he grumbled as my eyebrows rose. "I need you to help me out here."

   "Fine," I acquiesced, as his face relaxed. "On one condition."

   I knew it would irritate him, but I wasn't doing this unless I could get something in return. Negan gave me a suspicious look before turning and stalking back into his room, with me hot on his heels. He threw himself down onto the couch like I'd forcibly shoved him there, giving me an impatient look. Man, he was ridiculous sometimes.

   Squaring my shoulders, I approached him, straddling his hips while I placed my hands on his cheeks, though he didn't thaw out at all. He just poked his tongue out of the corner of his mouth before resting his large palms on my waist. 

   "Spit it out, Angel," he grumbled, though it didn't sound as mean as I thought it would. 

   "Would you please let that Daryl guy see a doctor and get cleaned up?" I implored, holding his face steady as he tried to turn away. "If you want him to join your side, showing a little benevolence never hurt anyone."

   "He's not a guest. He's a prisoner."

   "So was I," I reminded him, trying not to flinch as his eyes flashed with anger. "It may not have felt that way to you, but it did to me. And I remember being treated much differently."

   Negan tried to hoist me off of him, but I pressed my legs tighter around his waist, kissing his cheek softly, my fingers moving up and down his neck as I waited it out, let him exhale in frustration before he stilled. "I know it's not the same, but can you blame me? I'm not asking for him to have free run of the factory. Just a shower and a checkup."

   "I'm not in the business of charity," he snapped, with a little bite to his words, since that was my business of choice.

   "Basic human care isn't charity," I said, searching his eyes. "It's just right, sweetie."

   His mouth twitched at my pet name, but he composed himself as I held my breath, and he finally nodded. "Fine. Have Fat Joey escort him to Carson, and then his ass is back in his cell since I have to leave."

   "Thank you," I told him sincerely, rising off of him until he pulled me back against his hips, grinding them against mine as I squirmed on top of him. He was unbelievable. "I guessing I'll owe you later?"

   Negan chuckled as he let me up, patting my backside when he got to his feet. "I have quite a lot of disgusting things planned for you tonight," he leered before striding off to do whatever the heck he was going to do. "Someday I'm going to tell you 'no', and it ain't gonna be pretty," he called out as I smiled at his back. 

   We'd cross that bridge when we came to it, I supposed.

   I checked in with the other girls to see if they needed anything, but they were fine. Phoebe offered to take them up onto the roof, the four of them chattering about all the amenities they had access to, and I retreated back to Negan's desk to get the books in order. There were dozens of inventory lists to be tracked, and my spirits fell when I saw how much they'd taken from Alexandria on their first trip. 

   Someone had marked down two dozen mattresses along with a drawing of a flame and a smiley face, making my skin crawl. The bad thing about loving Negan was having to accept how different we were. Though his methods had no doubt kept this large community running, his level of revenge and simmering rage was a stark contrast to my own, and I doubted that I could ever be so vengeful, even after knowing what these people had done. 

   Still, I also recorded the guns that had been taken from the outpost, and I grudgingly agreed that these people were unlike any of the other communities. As I worked, I thought about Daryl and contemplated the kind of person that he was. He had to be tough since he was still alive, and they hadn't seemed to have broken him yet. Had he ever dealt with anyone like Negan before? Lord knows I hadn't.

   By the time I got caught up, it was almost lunchtime, and I headed down to the cafeteria to look for Joey. I refused to call him Fat Joey since it was rude, but it wasn't worth a fight with Negan. Maybe if I referred to him by his name often enough, it would rub off on him, though even I knew it was highly doubtful. 

   He was sitting at a table by himself, eating a generous portion of food, and I quickly got myself a tray, setting it down next to him with a thump. Startled, he blinked rapidly as I gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder.

   "Hey, Joe, how are you?" I asked politely as he looked around, thinking there was someone else I was addressing. 

   "Uh, I'm fine, Miss Marie," he said nervously, his fingers twirling his fork around, splattering his sleeve with sauce. "Negan just left."

   "I know," I assured him with a grin. "I saw him before he did. And please, just call me Marie."

   "Yes, ma'am," he said, still seeming confused. "Are you-? Were you looking for someone else, then?"

   "Just you, Joe. When we're done eating, we're going to take Daryl to the infirmary to get checked out and then to get a shower."

   I thought it best not to frame it as a request and more of a polite order, but his face froze as he tried to figure out my intentions. 

   "Don't worry, I already discussed it with Negan. It has his approval. You won't get into any trouble."

   Like a taut string had been cut, he visibly slumped in relief, digging into his food with vigor as I ate my own, and we sat in a companionable silence, save for a few sniggers and under-the-breath comments when other Saviors passed by. Apparently, sweet Joey was not very popular, and a few of them eyed me with disdain since I was sitting with him. 

   Since this wasn't high school, and I wasn't gunning for Miss Popularity, I gave them my best Sherry-inspired glare, fishing my necklace out from under my shirt to remind them who I was. It did the trick, and they shut up, moving to a table further away. 

   Joey's face turned red, since he wasn't stupid, and he mumbled an apology. 

   "Why are you apologizing? You didn't do anything wrong," I said, giving his wrist a reassuring squeeze. "I don't like jerks, and you need to be a little more confident. You're a nice guy. Be proud of that."

   "Yes, ma'am," he said, ducking his face so that I couldn't see his pink cheeks. I liked him best out of all the Saviors, except for Simon. 

   When we were done, he graciously offered to take my tray back for me, and I headed over to the hallway to wait for him. He ambled over to me, and together we went down to the basement, where I had spent an abbreviated afternoon in a cell of my own. Daryl was being kept in the one at the far back of the building, being guarded by a bored looking man who sat on a stool. 

   "We're here to take Daryl to the infirmary," Joey said hesitantly, only standing up straight after I poked him in the back.

   "On whose orders?" the man asked in a bored voice, not even looking up. He was too busy playing with the keys, forming them into finger weapons like he was some sort of cut-rate Wolverine.

   "Negan's," I said, feeling a little morbid sense of satisfaction when his head snapped up, and he looked from me to Joey, his eyes landing on my necklace. It was almost angering that this stupid piece of jewelry was the only way I could get anything done, but I kept my composure, waiting politely until he got up with a shrug and unlocked the cell.

   Daryl was curled up on a cot, facing the wall, and he startled slightly, turning his head and blinking in the sudden exposure to light. 

   "Get up, asshole," the guard drawled, producing a gun. "These people are here to take you to the infirmary."

   "Fuck off," Daryl mumbled, putting his head back down, and the guard raised the gun over his head, starting towards the cot until Joey's big, meaty hand closed around his wrist, stopping him.

   "Daryl, my name is Marie. We just want to get you checked out and cleaned up."

   He finally rolled over after a moment, and his eyes sparked with recognition as he realized who I was. He didn't say anything, just watching me for a moment until he finally got to his feet, moving stiffly. 

   I gave him what I hoped was a sincere smile to assure him that there was no ulterior motive other than kindness, and he shuffled to the door as the three of us backed up.

   The guard shoved him forward, making him stumble, and I let out a hiss.

   "If you manhandle him again, I'll make sure you end up cleaning up the walker guts when they explode out on the fence," I threatened, knowing I didn't have that power at all. But he believed me because he helped Daryl to his feet. "There's no need for that. He's not doing anything wrong."

   Joey pulled out his own pistol, and Daryl looked at the weapon threateningly before composing himself, flicking his dirty hair out of his eyes. 

   "Thanks for your help," I said sarcastically, waving the jerk away. "We'll take it from here."

   The guard backed himself towards the stool, and Joey gestured for Daryl to move, keeping him in front of us as we walked side by side towards the steps. It took him a while to get a decent gait going, and when we got to the main floor, we hung a right to go to the infirmary. 

   The room was empty when we got there, and Daryl went immediately to one of the beds, hunching over as I perched across from him. He seemed to be on edge, waiting for something bad to happen, and I couldn't say I blamed him. I didn't know exactly what went on when he was taken, and I wasn't sure I wanted to. 

   Joey stood awkwardly in the doorway, the gun hanging limply in his hands, and I started to ponder how he ended up becoming a Savior. He wasn't particularly brave, and he didn't seem to be very comfortable with violence, further proven when Dr. Carson touched him on the shoulder, scaring the crap out of him.

   "At ease, son," Dr. Carson said lightly, squeezing around him to come into the room with us. He gave Daryl a quick once over before looking at me with resignation, and I shrugged with a smile. 

   "Negan said he could be checked out and cleaned up, so here we are."

   Daryl's shoulders seemed to close in even further, and I jumped down from the bed, correctly guessing that he'd be uncomfortable with me sitting here watching him like he was some sort of entertainment. 

   "I'll give you some privacy."

   Joey stood nervously in the doorway, and I pulled him down to whisper in his ear. "I'm going to go get him some toiletries and some clean clothes, okay?"

   "Yes, ma'am," he said. "I'll keep an eye on him."

   "Thanks, Joe. I know you will."

   With some extra pep in my step, I visited the marketplace, grabbing some shampoo, soap, conditioner, a brush, deodorant and a red toothbrush and toothpaste, loading it all in a thin plastic grocery bag after charging it all to my points. 

   The clothing booth was next, and I got a blue, button-down shirt and jeans, holding some underwear by the tips of my fingers and hoping I was close to the right size. 

   I felt good, like this was the right thing to do, and I took my finds back to the infirmary, dumping it on the bed as Dr. Carson declared Daryl officially patched up and free to go. He had some tiny stitches on his cheek, and the rest of the cuts were bandaged up, along with another one that poked out of the dirty sweatshirt he was wearing. 

   "Thanks, Doc," I said, hugging him as he waved me off with a smile. 

   Daryl was still watching me like he was the night clerk at a 7-11 and I was a sketchy customer trying to shoplift, but I let it roll off of my back. Of course, he wouldn't trust me right away, but I hoped in time he'd get to know me and understand that I only had everyone's best interests at heart. 

   "Come on," I told him, picking up the supplies I'd found him. "We'll take you to the shower, now."

   "I'm fine," he grumbled, shooting me a look, but I shook my head.

   "You'll get sick if you don't get cleaned up."

   He shook his head, and I held up my hand in a gesture of peace.

   "I'm not trying to trick you, Daryl. There's no ulterior motive here. I'm just trying to help."

   With a parting glance to the doctor, he started towards the door, and Joey let him out as I pointed to the door across the hall where I'd showered the morning after Father Thomas and I were brought here. Daryl yanked the items from my hand before slamming the door shut behind him. 

   "He's kind of a jerk," Joey mumbled, and I leaned against the wall to wait. 

   "Well, I'm sure he hasn't had it easy here," I offered as a lame excuse. 

   The sound of the water turning on made me smile, and I asked Joey to go and get a few bottles of water and some bread from the marketplace, assuring him that I'd keep an eye out. He handed the gun over to me, and I tucked it into the back of my jeans, not wanting to have it just sitting out.

   He was gone a long time, and I was just about to slump down to the floor, tired of standing when the door opened a crack, steam wafting out. 

   "Can you help me?" a gruff voice called out, prompting me to head towards him.

   It was a rookie mistake I'd regret, because he pulled me into the bathroom, holding a scalpel to my throat as he wrested the gun from my waistband. 

   "You're going to get me outta here," he growled into my ear, locking narrowed eyes with my widened, tearful ones in the mirror. 

   My only thought at that moment was that if this man didn't kill me, Negan surely would. I'd screwed up, big time.


	37. John 15:18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “If the world hate you, ye know that it hated me before it hated you.”

   I was many things in that moment as I stared into cold, blue eyes in the mirror. Terrified, as the sharp, thin blade sat next to my jugular vein, ready to rip it to shreds at the slightest provocation. I was also angry that every time I tried to do the right thing, it always blew up in my face. My constant need to see to the needs of others left me hurt or in trouble.

   The other feelings were a shame at my inexperience in dealing with dangerous people and also the overwhelming need for Negan to come and rescue me. I wasn't proud of either of those, but I blinked the tears from my eyes as he held up the gun.

   "I don't wanna hurt ya," Daryl grunted, "so if ya get me outta here, I promise I won't."

   "I-"

   The words stuck in my throat, and he lowered the scalpel, allowing me to turn around to face him.

   "I don't have that kind of power," I choked out, my hand going immediately to my throat, rubbing it over and over as he studied me. "This place is guarded all over."

   "I'm gettin' outta here, and you're going to help me," he repeated, and I threw up my hands in frustration.

   "I don't know how," I said loudly, and he tightened his grip on the gun, making me shrink back. Daryl pointed it brusquely at my chest, and I knew he was directing it at my necklace. 

   "You're that sick fuck's girl, so ya have some kinda pull. How do we get out of the gates?"

   Blinking rapidly, I wracked my brains for some sort of way out of this mess, and he growled at me. "Think, girl."

   "Marie."

   "What?"

   "My name is Marie," I stuttered, backing up against the sink. Somewhere in the recesses of my brain, old cop shows bounced around, and I remembered in all of them, the hostage negotiators would use the names of the captives, try and humanize them to their captors so that they would see them as people, with thoughts and feelings. Maybe if I made him see that I was just a woman, a living breathing person whose only flaw was trying to help him, he wouldn't hurt me. Like my father.

   "Let me think," I muttered, brushing my fingers across my forehead, at first trying to stall until Joey returned. But the thought of Daryl hurting him, made my head snap up.

   "I'll help you, I'll try if you promise not to hurt anyone."

   "Are you fucking kiddin' me?" he snapped, rocking from side to side. "Do ya know what these fuckers have done to me? To my family?"

   "I can't help you if you cause a bloodbath here. There are kids here. Women who can't protect themselves."

   Daryl gave me a stoic look as we both studied each other, my gaze drifting to the gun that he had pointed at me, and I wiped my face with shaking hands. 

   "I ain't gonna do anything," he finally said. "Not today, but I can't make any promises in the future. A war is comin' thanks to that murderin' prick."

   I blanched at both this words and the sentiment behind them. More death, more bombs and more people in the crosshairs. That's what awaited me if I helped him. But if I didn't, something terrible could happen here. And the craven part of me didn't want to die when I was finally happy again. I could only send a silent prayer for guidance, with the slim hope that he'd keep his word and not hurt me. 

   Like an idiot, I stuck my hand out, and he looked at me like I was crazy before shaking it twice as some sort of unspoken agreement. I had a vague plan that would depend on a wing and a prayer, but for Negan's sake, I was determined to see it through, knowing if he came back and found out I was dead or hurt, it would crush him like nothing else. A weak repeat of losing his wife. 

   Daryl had actually cleaned himself up, and he was wearing the clothes that I'd gotten him, his wet hair laying in a mess on the top of his head. 

   "Brush your hair," I prompted him as I heard heavy footsteps. "This will only work if you look like one of the Saviors."

   "Don't try nothin'," he warned me as I opened the door a crack into Joey's nervous face. 

   "Ma'am, you shouldn't be in there," he said anxiously as I opened the door wider to show him that Daryl was 'unarmed' and cooperating. He ran his fingers through his hair, and I smiled, trying to keep my shaking under control.

   "He's behaving," I said, proud of how steady my voice sounded, glancing down the halls quickly to see if anyone else was around. Both directions were clear, and I took one step out, hoping that I wasn't about to be shot in the back. "Joe, I forgot to get deodorant. Can you run back for me, and I'll stand guard? It's at the far table by the end of the factory."

   He started to shake his head, but I fingered my charm, a subtle reminder and he loped back down the hall. Once he was out of sight, Daryl stepped out into the hallway, and I motioned for him to follow me, my heart thudding so loudly that I felt like I'd been thrust into the Telltale Heart.

    _Don't think. Don't feel guilty. You're saving lives, including your own_ , I told myself, leading him down towards the garage. If God was on my side, I'd be able to convince some of the others that he was one of the new recruits that were just picked up. The barrel of the gun was firmly against my spine as we approached the metal door, and I turned the knob carefully.

   The garage was quiet, and there were only a few men working today. The clangs and grunts were sparse in the large building, and I ducked behind one of the large racks to see what I could see. 

   Two men in overalls were working on one of the box trucks, joking and laughing with each other while they pulled out pieces of the engine, some of which were scattered on a big, white cloth. 

   "Fuck you, man," the blonde said, wiping his hands on a black piece of cloth. "She really said it. I ain't kidding. She wants to be fucking tied up the next time we do it. Said it turns her on."

   "Pics or it didn't happen," the other joked, a lanky redhead who leaned over to take a bottle of water off of the bumper. "I always knew that girl was a freak."

   I scoffed at their juvenile conversation, my cheeks heating up despite the seriousness of my predicament as I thought about Simon and Negan engaging in such locker room talk. I'd kill him if he did. 

   "Those two are low on the totem pole," I whispered to Daryl, who was perched next to me, watching them with a stony glare. "They've never even left the Sanctuary. They just work on the trucks. Would they recognize you?"

   Daryl shook his head, and while we waited for a few seconds, I spotted a baseball cap sitting on the shelf to my right, and I handed it to him. I couldn't sit here waffling anymore. Joey would only wander around confused for a few minutes before he'd panic and sound some sort of alarm. 

   "Put this on so they can't see much of your face. You need to look and act like one of them. Don't slouch, don't glare, and don't say a word. Please just follow my lead."

   I stood up, heading towards the catwalk as I tried to calm my heart, possess an air of confidence like Negan, and forget that there was an armed enemy at my back who could shoot me at any second. 

   The sound of our clomping boots alerted the two guys in the bay that we were coming and I plastered a smirk on my face as they stood at attention, their chatter coming to an abrupt halt.

   "I need the keys to a truck," I said leisurely as they studied me with expressions of disbelief and doubt, the blonde one giving Daryl a suspicious glance before turning his attention back to me. 

   "What the hell for?"

   Well, so much for manners, and my eyebrow rose as I felt Daryl shift behind me. 

   "I need to go out and get some supplies. For Negan."

   The redhead tossed a wrench down into the car parts, wiping off his hands as he took a few steps forward, clearing his throat. 

   "Why would Negan send you out for supplies? You're just a woman and you ain't one of the Saviors."

  _You can do this, Marie. You want to survive. Fake it til you make it_.

   "What's your name?" I asked sharply, planting my feet and resting my hands on my hips. "I'd like to have it when I tell Negan that his men are being obstinate jerks to the one person other than Simon who's allowed to do what they want."

   Lazily, I ran my finger along my pendant, and the blonde hustled over to a rack holding keys, lifting a set off and walking them over to me at a hastened pace. He held them out, and I yanked them out of his hand, barking out my words.

   " _Names. Now_."

   "Jesse," the blonde said apologetically, pointing to the redhead. "I'm Terry. The truck is over there." 

   He gestured to a grey one that was in pretty good condition, and I strode over to it with my arms swinging, still in shock that this was working. Daryl went around to the other side, climbing in and slamming the door. Before I even had my own closed, he pulled out the gun and held it to my side, destroying all of the confidence I'd just built up, and I let out a shaken breath.

   "I ain't gonna hurt ya," he said, and I shot him a glare. "I'm just doin' it as a precaution. Don't try anything stupid."

   "Do you really think I can function when you keep pointing that thing at me?"

   He gave me a strange look before mumbling under his breath.

   "For being one of that fuck's women, ya sure are skittish."

   "I was a freaking nun," I snapped, making him blink in surprise. "I've only known him for a few months, so lay off."

   Why I felt the need to defend myself, I don't know, and it irked me more than his accusation. It also shamed me that I felt the need to distance myself from Negan's actions, and with some self-directed irritation, I started the vehicle, now solely intent on getting this a-hole out of the gates so that I could get as far away from him as possible. 

   Gunning the engine, I shifted into drive, trying to gain control of my faculties again. Heading towards the gate, I saw that it was Gerald, one of the men that was frequently out on scavenging missions, and I warned Daryl to keep his composure and let me do the talking. The gun slipped behind my back, pressing there like a warning and a reminder, and I straightened my posture, affixing a small smile onto my face.

   There was a very good chance that he had no idea who Daryl was, and as he reached the truck, I took note of the fact that he didn't even reach for his gun which was hanging over his shoulder, the black strap with a baseball bat scratched into it catching my eye. 

    _Negan. I'm so sorry._

   "Gerald," I said in a friendly voice, clutching my hand into a fist so that it didn't tremble, giving him a quick punch to the shoulder. "When did you get back?"

   "Just this morning, freckles," he chuckled, glancing at Daryl blankly. "We found a shitload of rice in one of the old supermarkets. Oops, sorry for swearing, Marie."

   That was the least of my problems, but I played along, clucking my tongue at him. 

   "Gerald, this is Kyle," I told him, pulling that name out of thin air. "He came in with the new group that Negan found."

   Daryl let go of the gun to reach out to shake his hand, doing a good impersonation of a human being with manners and not a wild animal person, mumbling out a bland hello.

   "He and I lived in the same town," I continued, hoping it sounded convincing and not rushed. "I freaked when I saw him, naturally."

   "You knew Marie back in the day?" Gerald asked, leaning against the door of the truck, his head poking through the open window. Of course, he believed me, because I wasn't known as a liar. At least, not until now. 

   "Yeah, before she became a nun," Daryl grumbled, clearly losing the battle with manners. I shrugged, giving Gerald a conspiratorial smile. 

   "He's grouchy on the best of days. Anyways," I laughed, and it sounded borderline hysterical to my ears. "When I told Negan, he said Kyle could take me back to the rectory and to my old house to get a few things that I'd left behind. Could you let us out? I know he'll be back soon, and I want to be back before he gets here."

   "Hah, he's out looking for something for you, I heard," he teased me, throwing me off momentarily. He was?

    _Focus, dummy. Now's not the time. You have a gun in your back, for Pete's sake._

   "Crap," I said, recovering as Daryl shifted slightly in the seat. He was right to be nervous since it had been several minutes since we'd ditched Joey. "Can you let us through? I want to be back in a few hours."

   I'd say the air was pregnant with tension as time seemed to slow down, but it wasn't enough of a comparison. It was like one of those dramatic moments in a movie when everything grinds to a halt, and I watched his mouth open slowly, the word 'sure' taking at least a minute to leave his lips. 

   Everything came rushing back to me once he motioned for the gate to be opened. The smell of rotting flesh from the walkers right outside. The sound of the truck idling as the door swung open. Even the feel of unyielding metal in my back as the blood pulsed throughout my body.

   I think I managed a smile, but I'm not sure since my vision tunneled towards the stretch of road that lay in front of us. Freedom for my captor, and uncertainty for me, but I put the truck back into drive, approximating a wave as we started down the road, the shaking of the wheel from side to side due to my unsteady hand movements.

   All I needed at this point was for Negan to come driving towards us, but there was no one around as I turned to the right, driving away from the Sanctuary. Daryl let out a deep breath, removing the gun from behind me and tucking it into his jeans, instead holding the scalpel as he directed me where to go. He apparently knew this area, and once we were at least ten minutes from the factory, I slowed the truck to a stop.

   "Let me go, now."

   White spots were dancing in front of my eyes as my body started to falter, the reality of what I'd just been a part of starting to make me sick. I'd helped this man escape for reasons that felt foreign to me. I'd put myself before anything else, my desire to live negating anything else. No, not just mine. My need to make sure that no one else got hurt. I kept my word, and now I wanted to go home.

   I reached for the door, but Daryl clamped his hand down on my wrist as he reached over me, holding the scalpel to my neck, and I lost it. Everything I'd pushed down over the last several minutes came bubbling up, and I started to cry.

   "Let me go," I pleaded. "I got you out, I didn't alert anyone as to who you are. Just take the truck and go."

   "I can't," he said, and he sounded tired and beaten. "I need ya to drive. We have to get outta here."

   "No, _you_ need to get out of here. So just go."

   "Goddammit," he shouted, making me crouch into a ball. I couldn't stand to be yelled at like that, a quick flash of grape juice invading my nostrils as my father roared into my brain, and I whimpered, not even noticing that he'd let go of my arm, even though I brought it up to my face to shield my eyes. 

   "I'm sorry," he mumbled, and believe it or not, it sounded heartfelt. I just didn't care. I was tired of being yelled at, poked with weapons, and just generally being in crappy situations. 

   We sat in silence for about thirty seconds until I sniffled, dragging my forearm across my cheeks. 

   "Is every man violent and abusive?" I said in a broken voice, shutting my eyes and leaning my head back. The only thing that made me open them were rough fingers that very gently lowered my arm, and I saw that he was looking at me like he'd never seen me before. 

   "I ain't gonna hurt you," he told me in a low voice, so as not to scare me. "There's just some things ya need to see for yourself. I need ya to drive."

   My head shook automatically, but he leaned forward. Now, and only now could I see some kindness behind his eyes. They were blue, and they were boring into mine, making me feel uncomfortable for some reason. Maybe this man wasn't just some mindless murderer who snuck into the outpost in the middle of the night for a thrill kill. Maybe, just maybe, he was like us. People who wanted to take care of other people. 

   After several cleansing breaths, I put the truck into drive, but only after he put the scalpel away. He seemed to understand that I couldn't do this while being threatened, and he scooted over to towards the door to give me some space. 

   "Head down this road for about ten miles," he told me, gesturing to the right, and I pulled back out slowly, bumping into a random walker that had noticed us, grimacing when it rolled under the tire and I could hear brittle bones crackle underneath us, lifting the truck up slightly.

   "Freaking gross," I muttered, and the dour man chuckled for a second. There was absolutely no conversation as we drove, and I held out the faint hope that we'd run into Negan coming back, but the roads were completely desolate, save for the abandoned cars and random walkers that were milling around like ping pong balls, bouncing into said cars and trucks. 

   "There," he pointed to a rocky, dusty road a few feet up, and I swerved to make the turn, cussing under my breath that he didn't give me enough warning. It wasn't an f-bomb, but a 'shit' did escape my mouth.

   Once the truck straightened out, I glanced over to see Daryl smirking at me.

   "What?"

   "Thought nuns didn't swear," he accused me in a grumbling voice.

   "Well, I'm no longer a nun, so that rule doesn't apply. Plus, when you're around people that swear as much as I am, it starts to rub off on you."

   Wisely, he keeps his thoughts about the people I spend my time with to himself, choosing to look out the window instead. I'm not ashamed to say I glanced around for the gun, for my own safety, but it was tucked securely in his waistband. 

   So, I resigned myself to following his grunting directions until the lane curved and a large, old, stately house came into view, surrounded by large fences and men standing atop them holding guns. 

   My nerves began to pulsate again as we approached this new place, and one of the men on the fence gestured to someone below very excitedly before jumping down, making me gasp. It was so graceful that I'd never seen anything like it. Or him. He was wearing a long, leather duster and a beanie. His flowing brown hair and beard accentuated bright, blue eyes when he came alongside Daryl with a look of disbelief. 

   "Daryl," he said breathlessly, practically pulling him out the window. "How the hell did you get out?"

   "Let us through and I'll explain," he said, not unkindly, and the strange man waved again, before turning his attention to me, who was watching him in awe. 

   The large, metal gate swung open, and we were greeted by at least a dozen people, including two very nervous looking women. Daryl's face lit up at first, and then fell, and I started to get a sinking feeling. 

   Several people waved us through, and I pulled immediately to the right, cutting the engine. The ninja man was around to my side of the truck before I could even blink, opening the truck and extending his hand to help me out. He had a smile on his face until he noticed my pendant, and it changed into something more guarded. 

   I stood there awkwardly as the two women came forward with tears in their eyes. Even more uncomfortable was Daryl, who seemed scared and uncertain at seeing them. But all of a sudden, the sick looking woman with short, brown hair closed the distance, flinging her arms around him. I could hear muted cries from the two of them, and they were joined shortly after by the second woman, with clear, dark skin and sad, determined eyes. 

   The three stood locked in an embrace for so long that I began to feel like an interloper, and I hedged back towards the truck. The ninja man stopped me, using a soft voice.  
"Negan killed both of their men, but Daryl feels responsible for Maggie's husband."

   Each additional word he uttered made me feel even sicker. 

   "Maggie's pregnant, and her husband Glenn-"

   "Please stop," I whispered, wanting to only be free of any unhappy memories that weren't mine. I didn't want to know their pain because they didn't know mine, or Negan's when he'd had to identify thirty men whose faces were ripped apart. 

   While all of this was happening, a sniveling man in an ill-fitting suit came stumbling out of the large house.

   "What is all of this?" he asked in a shocked voice, gesturing wildly to the truck, the man next to me, and the embrace that was just breaking up. "What is going on?"

   "Relax, Gregory," the man next to me said, and I let out a huff of breath, knowing exactly where I was. 

   He'd brought me to Hilltop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, finally, Marie's world is getting 'a whole lot bigger', thanks to Daryl's kidnapping adventure. She's in for some harsh truths about Negan and what he's capable. But the other guys are in for some as well, since she doesn't consider them the heroes. Onward we go!


	38. Love Thy Neighbor?

   The truck that I'd driven to the Hilltop pulled out of their gates, piloted by two men that were tasked with abandoning it some distance away so that Negan wouldn't find it there. They were being followed by another man who would bring them back, and I stood there forlornly as my hopes for just going home disappeared with them.

   The bearded man in the leather coat kept a hold of my arm so that I didn't run, but he shouldn't have bothered. I had no weapons, and nowhere to go, and I waited to see what would happen to me. All because I wanted to be kind. I kicked at a rock that lay in front of me, taking my anger out on it as it bounced a couple of times before striking Daryl in the ankle, and he broke apart from the two women with red eyes and a solemn expression. 

   "Thanks a lot," I barked at him with a strangled throat, shrugging out of the bearded man's grasp. 

   "We ain't gonna hurt ya," he said, closing the distance between us, but I backed up a few steps, scrubbing at my arm. 

   "Everything you've done since I went to bat for you has hurt me. Are you going to throw me in a cell now?"

   The Hilltop leader threw his hands up in the air for about the fifth time as he looked at the bearded man. "Paul, I want to know who these people are, and why they're darkening our doorstep."

   He turned with a flourish, stomping back towards the large house, and the two women motioned for everyone to follow. Paul, the bearded man, guided me up the path to the stately house, and when we stepped inside, I looked around warily. No one was in the large entryway that seemed to be untouched by time, and it dawned on me that this must have been a museum or something at one time.

   "Barrington House," Paul murmured in my ear, giving me a soft smile. "Gregory is our self-appointed leader, hence the suit."

   Single file, Paul, Daryl and the two women headed for the office that was to the left, a set of wooden double doors that were open, showcasing a handsome office that Negan would approve of. A large, executive desk sat along a wall that housed an impressive amount of books. Old but ornate couches were facing each other in the middle of the room, guarded by two marble statues and underneath a crystal chandelier that was probably worth more than my house growing up. 

   Gregory let out a sigh as he poured himself a glass of alcohol, sitting down behind the desk. Daryl pointed me to the couch closest to the doors, and I sat down on the edge, my hands resting in my lap as I looked around cagily. I didn't want to be here as an unwilling guest, especially with the two women studying me. Their faces weren't hostile, but they weren't friendly either, and I felt a pang of guilt as I locked eyes with the sickly one whose husband Negan had beaten to death. 

   Averting my eyes, I scooched away from Daryl as he sat down next to me, only to bump into Paul's leg since he'd claimed the armrest. 

   "Paul," Gregory began, swirling his glass around as he looked from person to person, "I have to say that I'm chagrined at the group I'm seeing in front of me. Not one of these people has been invited here by me, and I can only imagine what kind of trouble I'll be in if the Saviors find this one in our confines."

   He pointed dramatically at me before taking a large gulp of his drink, and I stared at him dully. I'd heard stories about Gregory from Simon and the others, and he certainly seemed to live up to the billing. None of them thought he was worth a damn, a slimy, simpering excuse for a leader. 

   "Daryl was captured because of us," Paul interjected, "because of the information we gave him. We can't turn these people away, not after everything that's happened."

   "That doesn't mean that I'm going to put our people at risk when Negan comes looking for him," Gregory snapped, slamming his glass down and straightening his jacket. "We have a good thing going with the Saviors, and I'm not about to mess that up."

   "Why are we discussing this in front of her?" the other woman asked. "She's one of them, and she's going to run back there and tell them everything if given half a chance."

   "Sasha, we ain't gonna do anythin' to her. She's not like them," Daryl growled, placing a protective arm in front of me, rendering me speechless, not that I had anything to say.

   "She's the only one that gave me a chance there. A chance to get out."

   "She's a fucking Savior," Sasha insisted. "She was there where you were being held. Are you just going to let her go?"

   This whole situation felt surreal to me. Not four hours ago, I was sitting doing my book work, wondering what I was going to have for lunch, and now a group of people were debating on what to do with me. 

   Sasha launched out of her seat, towering over me before I could even blink, but Daryl intercepted her, holding her back as she reached for me.

   "Do you have any idea what your people did to us? Do you know what it was like for us to kneel on the ground and watch your leader murder our family? Her husband?" 

   My eyes flickered nervously between the two women, and I saw that the other one, Maggie, was almost zoned out, staring through me. 

   "She's pregnant, and she almost died after watching that sick bastard beat her husband so badly that his face was unrecognizable," Shasha told me, her voice breaking. "Abraham-"

   Her voice cut off as Daryl pulled her face down to his chest, and she let out a sob. The description made me sick, and I felt like my skin was crawling, but there was something else there, and I had to say it.

   "I'm sorry for your loss," I said, looking to Maggie. "I truly am. But I wasn't there, and I had no part in it."

   She shook her head back and forth, and I wasn't sure if she thought I was denying what happened or if it was just an automatic reaction. 

   "But _you_ started this," I continued, looking from person to person. "You're the ones that went into the outpost and murdered thirty people in their sleep."

   "We did what we did-" Maggie began, but I plowed on, talking over her.

   "What you did was just as heinous. There were husbands there. Fathers. You killed people that had families, just like you. You didn't see their faces when those women and children were told that those men weren't coming home. Own your part in what you wrought. You put into motion what happened that night, and you can't take it back, either."

   Gregory cleared his throat, raising his hands again as he came to stand between the two couches. 

   "We're getting off track here," he announced in a reedy voice. "We don't need to discuss the past, only the future. And we need to figure out what we're going to do. Now as the leader, I'm partial to driving this woman back to the Sanctuary, or at least not far from it, and denying any part in this."

   "We can't," Maggie said, getting to a standing position. "She'll go back and tell him that we're here. That Daryl's here."

   "I want everyone out. Go wait outside," Gregory ordered, but no one moved. Daryl let the other woman, Sasha go, and she stormed out of the room, the door leading outside slamming with a final thud. Maggie followed behind her, her eyes cast downwards as she passed me, and I scooted back on the couch.

   This entire situation was out of my control, and I wished that I would've just minded my own business, staying safe in my protected little bubble in the factory. In the darkest corners of my mind, I didn't blame either side more than the other for what had transpired. Maybe Daryl's people, since they'd set these events in motion, but Negan probably would've found them eventually, and they still would be down one or two people. 

   Paul tugged Daryl on the arm to get him to leave, and with a last look to me, he grudgingly left the room, closing the door behind him. Now, it was just the Hilltop leader and me, and he sat down next to me, much too close for my liking.

   "What's your name, young lady?" he asked in a soft voice, resting both hands on his knees as he studied me. The look in his eye reminded me of a jackal for some reason, a sort of sneaky, conniving animal that skirted the edges of any conflict, waiting to feast on the leftovers. 

   "Marie."

   "Well, I'd like to be your friend, Marie, if you'd let me," he smiled, not making me feel any more comfortable. "We've always had a symbiotic relationship with the Saviors before ' _they_ ' came along." He waved his hand towards the door, obviously referring to Daryl and his friends. 

   "Symbiotic how?" I wasn't going to make this easy for him since I was still up in the air as to what I wanted to happen, other than for me to get to go home.

   "Well, they do take from us, that's true, but we've been able to hold our own while supplying you. And Negan and his people have kept this area clear of walkers. It's a small price to pay for our safety, I think, and if the others could just see it that way, maybe we could de-escalate what has clearly become a conflict."

   "Uh huh," I drawled, my eyebrows rising as I fought the urge to roll my eyes. "So what do you want from me?"

   Gregory tried for accommodating with his smile to me, but he missed by a country mile, and I suppressed the urge to smack him, not wanting to resort to violence like so many other people did. He scooted closer so that our legs were touching, and he patted my thigh, his fingers resting there just a little too long. 

   "If I take you back, I'm thinking that you can tell Negan that these interlopers are here. That they came here without permission, and refuse to leave. He can come and retrieve them, as a show of my loyalty."

   "What makes you think that I have that kind of pull with Negan?" I inquired in an innocent voice, and his hand landed back on my leg, giving it a squeeze. 

   "I see you're wearing a necklace that has Negan's initial on it," he told me, his other hand going to the pendant and plucking it from my chest, again invading my personal space. Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad thing if I slugged him. "You're obviously important to him, and I'm sure he'd reward me for returning his special person to him."

   I opened my mouth to tell him to go to hell, but the doors to his office were flung open, and Paul came rushing in, making Gregory jump up like his butt was on fire, dropping the pendant and backing up a few steps. Paul gave me a concerned look before addressing his boss.

   "Saviors are driving in now."

   Gregory's face paled as I shot off of the couch, going to the window to look out. Sure enough, three trucks were driving through the gates, but I didn't think it was because of me. They were the usual vehicles that went out on collections, and I turned around to see Gregory smoothing down his hair and buttoning his jacket, clearly wanting to make a good impression.

   "Today's their regular pickup day," I confirmed, and Paul nodded that I was correct. 

   "Paul, take Daryl and the girls and put them in the closet while I try to deal with this," Gregory instructed him. "Hopefully I can get them out of here without putting all of our heads on the block. I'll handle this."

   I wanted to say that I wouldn't trust this walking piece of slime to handle an unbreakable egg, but I let Paul pull me out of the room, shutting the doors to allow Gregory to gather up his nerve before he wet himself. Instead of putting us in the downstairs closet like he was told to, he hurriedly led us upstairs to one of the old bedrooms, opening a closet door in the corner of the room, and gesturing to another small door just inside. 

   Daryl unlatched it, revealing a crawlspace that led to a secret room, and one by one, we each ducked inside before Paul shut the door and moved something in front of it to cover it. 

   The room was musty and pitch black, and I stayed on my knees, using my hands to feel around, bumping into someone's face to my right. A rough grunt let me know that it was Daryl, and I pushed past him to find a spot by the wall, my heart skipping random beats as I worried about what would happen if the men found us here. 

   It wasn't bad enough that I'd unwittingly helped a prisoner escape, but if Negan knew I was also hiding out, well...it wouldn't be a good look for me. 

   "Why are you hiding?" came a disembodied voice that I assumed was Sasha, and I turned my head towards the sound, even though I couldn't see anything even if it was centimeters from my face. Her whole attitude pissed me off, and even though I was scared, I couldn't not stick up for myself. 

   "So that you don't get murdered, I guess," I snapped. "If they find any of us, do you really think you'll get out of this alive? Besides, instead of asking me why I'm hiding, maybe you should be asking me why Gregory was just downstairs willing to sell you freaking people out?"

   "What?"

   That was Maggie, and I felt someone pressing in on me, soft hands smacking against my face along with a hushed apology. 

   "I don't know what kind of people you usually hitch your wagons to, but that guy is a jerk. He doesn't care about you and I don't think he even cares about his own people. He's only concerned with saving his own hide," I muttered, feeling hot breath on my face. "He's perfectly willing to turn you in to make sure that he doesn't get into trouble."

   "And ya agreed to it?"

   Daryl's voice was sharp and accusing, and it only made me angrier. I owed these people nothing, especially him after he held a gun to me, and I let out a mirthless laugh.

   "I didn't agree to anything, a-hole. The trucks showed up before I could say anything. Besides, he was too busy groping me for me to answer."

   We all stopped talking as we heard the sounds of people milling around in the other room, and I may have ceased breathing for a moment, the stilted voices along with the scraping sounds of furniture being moved making us all freeze in place, and to my surprise, I felt Maggie's hands close over mine, gripping them tightly. 

   As afraid as I was, they had to be a hundred times more so, since they'd probably be brought back to the Sanctuary to be punished if not outright murdered, and I knew at that moment I didn't want that on my conscience. The wasn't a fight that I wanted to be a part of. There was no place for me in it, and as much as I loved Negan, I didn't want to have blood on my hands.

   A loud thump made me jump, and a male let out a loud shout permeating the thick, sweltering air, bringing a chill to my clammy skin. If this was just a taste of the fear that others lived with on a daily basis, it was too much for me. I longed for the safety of Negan's protection, his ability to do the dirty work to keep us fed and cared for. It was craven and wrong, but all too true as the sounds gradually faded, and Maggie let me go.

   I wiped my dripping palms on my jeans, wanting a big drink of water, and some time by myself to think of a way out of this mess for myself and everyone else. We sat for at least fifteen more minutes, and had it been one second longer, I might have crawled back out and turned myself in, too hot and tired from a day filled with terror and improvisation that I was ill-equipped to carry off. 

   But the crawlspace door opened, filtering a minute amount of light to us, and Daryl crawled out first, the sound of a fist hitting skin greeting the rest of us as we stumbled into the fading light of the bedroom. 

   Gregory was on the ground, holding his cheek as Paul pushed Daryl back towards the bed, and I got to my feet. Maggie went over to the mattress, testing his knuckles as he shook the feeling back into them. 

   "Why would you hit me?" the older man mumbled, poking at the rapidly swelling part of his cheek. 

   "Ya wanted to turn us in?" Daryl growled, narrowing his eyes as Gregory looked between him and me like a child that just got caught stealing cookies, and I glared right back. 

   "The next time you put your hands on me, I'll see to it that they're removed from your arms," I added as he scooted away towards the wall. "You have no right to touch me, and you're a piss poor excuse for a leader."

   Paul's lips quirked up into a smile as he reached out to help Gregory to his feet, but he shook off the assistance. 

   "I don't know what you're talking about," he stammered. "I said no such thing. I didn't touch you, either."

   "Why would she lie?" Sasha questioned, shocking the heck out of me. I wouldn't have ever fathomed that she'd believe me over him, but there you go. "It sounds exactly like the kind of thing you'd do."

   Gregory backed up towards the door, turning on his heel with the rest of us pursuing him, and he rushed down the steps of the house to retreat back to his office. I noticed vaguely that there were several items missing from the entrance, but didn't pay it much mind as I followed him back to his room, where he was pouring himself more to drink. 

   "What exactly do you do here?" I asked, planting myself in front of him. "Do you help your people at all?"

   "I supervise," he said hotly as he put the glass to his lips, but I yanked it out of his hand, in no mood for any more of his crap. 

   "So, nothing then."

   The five of us stood in a circle around Gregory as he turned around like a dog trying to find a comfortable spot. Say what you will about Negan, but at least he's out there on the front lines trying to do the same work that he directs his Saviors to do.

   I handed the glass to Paul, who set it back down on the little bar by the desk, grabbing a few bottles of water and passing them out, including one to Gregory. The rest of us sat back down to drink it and cool down from both the overheated room we just occupied and the emotions of the office. 

   "So, where do we go from here?" Paul finally asked, looking from person to person, but each one of us was reluctant to speak. I had no idea what to do, other than to fight like hell if they tried to hurt me. 

   "I don't know," I finally admitted, setting my bottle down with a sigh. "I do know that I don't want anyone else to get hurt," ignoring the look on Daryl's face. "I don't want to turn you guys in, but I can't stay here. Negan will come looking for me. And you," I said, inclining my head towards him. "He'll tear this area apart."

   "Well, we can't do anything tonight," Paul told me, and I knew he was right. It was going to be dark soon. "I'll get you guys set up in one of the trailers for the night, and we can meet again in the morning, try and figure out a way out of this mess."

   Sasha nodded stiffly, leaving the room without a backward glance. Maggie gave me a look that I couldn't quite decipher, and as she hobbled out, I felt a pang of guilt. No matter what led to the events of her husband's murder, her situation was terrible, and I'd be a monster not to empathize with that. 

   Gregory turned his back on the three of us, signaling that he was officially done speaking for the day, so I took my bottle with me as I let Paul lead us back outside. 

   "Why do you put up with that guy?" I grumbled as we crossed the front lawn towards a set of trailers that bordered the wooden fence on the front of the property. 

   "He _did_ keep us going in the beginning," Paul admitted as we stopped in front of an old, white trailer with a small set of steps that led to the door. He pulled a key out of his pocket, unlocking the door and stepping inside, lighting an oil lamp. The conditions were rustic, and that was being kind. There was a worn out, old couch, a small, rough wood table, and a twin bed that had seen better days. A small kitchenette rounded out the compact area along with a bathroom that could hold a half a person. 

   Daryl disappeared inside it, and I looked around in a stupor as Paul opened the crooked cupboard, taking out a homemade can of beans, opening it and dumping into a pan and turning on the little stove to heat it up. 

   "You can call me Jesus, by the way," he said in a low voice. "All my friends used to address me by that."

   I fought to keep from smiling, and he gave me a curious look.

   "What?"

   With an amused grin, I stuck my hand out as he stared at me. 

   "All of my friends used to call me Sister Marie."

   His mouth dropped open as his eyes widened. "You were a nun?"

   "Up until earlier this year," I said as my smile faded, and I sat down heavily at the table, my eyes starting to tear up unexpectedly. 

   He took the seat next to me, looking away as I wiped them away. 

   "I'm sorry," he murmured, and it sounded heartfelt. "I'm sorry about this whole situation."

   "Me, too," I admitted as Daryl came stalking back out. 

   Our dinner was tense and quiet as each of us ate a small portion, and I cleaned up the dishes while I waited for them to leave. But Daryl insisted that he was going to stay in the trailer with me, despite my objections.

   "I don't know you," I spluttered, waving my hands in the air. "I don't want you in here."

   "I ain't leavin' ya alone. Ain't no discussion to be had," he snapped, making himself comfortable on the couch as Jesus stood there helplessly. "I don't know if I can trust ya, and I don't trust any of them out there, either."

   "Uh, I'll be back first thing in the morning," Paul said awkwardly, ducking out the door and locking it from the outside, effectively trapping me inside with the one person I didn't want to be around right now. 

   With as much dignity I could muster, I went into the bathroom, sitting down on the toilet lid to have myself a well-earned cry. I missed Negan, I missed my home, and I missed everything about my old life before I even knew him. It was wrong, but a part of me blamed him for the situation I was in. If he hadn't taken me away, I'd never know anything about any of these people, and I wouldn't be stuck between a rock and a hard place. These people weren't totally the monsters I assumed they were, yet I loved the man that they were going to try to destroy, and I wasn't about to let that happen. 

   Once I was able to take a deep breath, I resolved to try to sleep and to come up with a way out of this mess, not just for me, but for everyone. I washed my face the best that I could, and when I came back out, Daryl was laying on his side, watching me. 

   Ignoring him, I threw myself down on the bed, turning away from him to face the wall. I didn't fear that he was going to do anything like attack me or rape me, yet I didn't feel comfortable sharing a room with a strange man, and it took me a long time to fall asleep. 

   Unbeknownst to me, the next morning would send me to yet another community. The mysterious Alexandria and all of its inhabitants were going to change my world.


	39. The Word of God

   Someone poked me in the back, breaking me from the small amount of sleep I'd managed to get, and I first thought it was Negan, and I waved away the intrusion into my dream. But a grunt soon followed, and I rolled over, blinking several times as a pair of blue eyes glared down at me, making me sit up quickly, a head rush giving me a lightheaded feeling.

   "It's dawn," Daryl grumbled, turning around to the table, where he pulled out one of the chairs and sat down.

   Damn it. I was still here, with a bunch of relative strangers and no idea if I was going to be let go. Hunching over, I tried to get my bearings, and I was grunted at again.

   "Shut up," I mumbled, throwing off the threadbare blanket that I'd covered up with, lurching to a standing position as I attempted to push my hair into some sort of recognizable shape. My body was aching and I felt the beginnings of a headache, and I went into the bathroom to try to collect myself.

   The woman that stared back at me in the mirror was nearly a stranger, her face lined with sleep marks and dull, green eyes. Not what I was expecting, and I quickly washed my face, gargling with the tiny bottle of mouthwash that was sitting in there. It wasn't as good as brushing my teeth, but I was at least guaranteed to not knock myself out with my morning breath.

   When I came back out, I saw that there was a sad looking bowl of oatmeal waiting for me along with a cup of coffee in a chipped mug. I sat across from Daryl, who was nursing his own, and I dug into the lukewarm breakfast, refusing to meet his gaze even though I could feel him staring at me.

   "What?" I finally mumbled in a thick voice before shoving another spoonful into my mouth. He didn't respond, and with a sigh, I looked up to see that he was fiddling with the handle of his mug, pursing his lips. "What?" I repeated, and he shook the long, somehow dirty hair of his out of his eyes.

   "I'm gonna take ya to Alexandria today," he mumbled as I shook my head.

   "No, I'm going home."

   "No, you're not."

   "Excuse me?" I spluttered, dropping the spoon. "I did my part, against my will. I didn't rat you people out yesterday, so I'm washing my hands of all of this."

   "Ya can't do that, and ya know it," he said in a quiet voice, focusing on me. "A war is comin', and ya need to see why."

   We sat there glaring at each other until the sound of a key in the lock pushed me to my feet, dropping the bowl and the cup into the tiny sink before I went to the door to wait to be set free.

   Jesus took an automatic step back as he opened the door, nearly falling down the steps as I shot out past him, making for the main house with Daryl in hot pursuit. He pulled me to a stop just before I reached the porch, and I gave him a shove to get him off of me. His grip on me was tight, though, and I stomped on his foot until he dropped his hands.

   The door was unlocked, and I barged in to find Gregory in his office, wearing yet another suit, this time a blue one with a crisp white shirt. His cheek was black and blue from where Daryl had punched him, and he gave me a dirty look as I rounded on him.

   "I want a truck or a car, _now_ ," I announced as Jesus came strolling in, completely unconcerned. "If you don't let me go, I'm going to tell Negan that you had a hand in kidnapping me."

   "Now, just a minute," he barked, gripping the desk as he stood up. "That's not true, and I don't appreciate-"

   "She ain't goin' anywhere unless it's with me," Daryl said as he limped into the room, crossing his arms in front of me.

   "Hey, everyone needs to calm down," Jesus interjected, but I'd had enough.

   "I don't need to calm down, I need to get back."

   "Back to that monster? The asshole who kills for sport?" Daryl shot back, his eyes glittering dangerously, and it reminded me so much of Negan that it threw me off balance.

   "He's not a monster to _me_ ," I managed to say as he scowled at me. "Maybe because I never rolled up and murdered dozens of people."

   "You're working for a man that holds everyone else down," he muttered, though he didn't raise his voice.

   Oh, holy crap. He didn't know who I was. It was on the tip of my tongue to correct him, but something held me back, the fear that if he did find out, I'd be used as leverage against Negan.

   "I want to go home," I said again, but not one of the men in the room responded to me, and with a shriek of frustration, I stomped over to the couch, sitting down roughly before I started to cry. Tears would definitely give me away that I wasn't a Savior, and I realized as I thought back that the only times Daryl had seen me, I was with Simon or another Savior, eating in the cafeteria or training. It's not like he'd stumbled on Negan and I making out or anything.

   Three very deep breaths later, he took the couch opposite me, and we held another staredown until some guy named Cal burst through the doors to announce that they had visitors. He didn't say it was the Saviors, but I said a little prayer that they were here to rescue me, not even minding that everyone else would be in trouble, and I watched as Gregory got himself in order before walking out of the room to greet whoever had arrived.

   Once Daryl was sure that I wasn't getting up, he went over to the window, looking out for only a few seconds before taking off at a run. Jesus followed behind, leaving me alone in the office, and I tiptoed up to where Daryl had been standing, only to see another group of strangers and not my Saviors.

   From my vantage point, I could see that there were about six people at the gates, and a man was hugging Maggie, holding her in a tight embrace. They exchanged a few words until his attention was drawn to the shaggy-haired man that stood just outside of the house.

   The man came striding forward with a purpose, and he hugged Daryl with a fierceness that would've put a lump in my throat if I wasn't a prisoner, and I watched openmouthed as he handed the gun he'd used to subdue me to the man, who looked at it as if it were a long-lost treasure, securing it in the gun belt that sat low on his hip.

   A woman with long dreadlocks was the next to greet Daryl, kissing his cheek as he shrugged his shoulders, and the procession continued until everyone that had arrived had greeted him. The group of people walked up the steps, and I hurried back to my spot on the couch, acting like I'd been there the entire time.

   The man that Daryl hugged stopped suddenly when he saw me, giving me a confused look until Daryl motioned for him to come in. Each person did the same, eyeballing me as they filtered in, and I fought to keep from fidgeting under the close examination by the strangers.

   They looked tough, like they'd seen and done a lot more than I ever had in this world, and I studied them as they crowded around the desk. The man who was obviously the leader was handsome in a rugged way, with piercing blue eyes, and messy brown hair that curled over his collar. The woman with the dreds was sporting a sword, her muscular arms tense as she watched me.

   Another woman with black hair and brown eyes was chewing a piece of gum, leaning against the bookcase, and she was joined by a smaller woman wearing a baseball cap and a very mean expression. Daryl had his hand on the shoulder of a kid who couldn't have been more than fifteen or sixteen, and he had long hair the almost obscured the cotton patch that covered his right eye. He was wearing a cowboy hat, and even he seemed to be tougher than I ever would be.

  Sasha and Maggie were huddled up with a girl that was probably about the same age as the boy, and another guy with brown hair and light eyes was hovering around the door, just observing the others. All in all, they were a very diverse and intimidating group, and I melted back into the couch, hoping to be forgotten.

   Gregory pushed his way through the crowd, taking the seat behind his desk.

   "Jesus, would you be a dear and show Marie out into the parlor, please?"

   Clearly, he didn't want me to witness the conversation, and I almost argued before deciding that the less I knew, the better. I didn't want to lie to Negan about what I'd been through, and I got up without a word, passing Daryl with a slightly dirty look. It didn't escape the other man's attention, and he cocked his head as I parked myself in the parlor, leaning against the wall.

   I couldn't hear what the others were talking about, but I did catch several different murmurs, all in male voices, as one's pitch rose dramatically, and I assumed it was Gregory's. Whatever the Alexandrian people were asking him, he wasn't happy about it, and I'm sure it had something to do with Negan.

   My thoughts were consumed with him all of a sudden, and I wrapped my arms around my waist, pretending that it was him, that he was there to comfort me and tell me that everything was okay. I could see his face as clearly as if he was standing in front of me, and if I closed my eyes for a moment, I could even hear his voice, that gravelly, deep, rich sound eveloping my consciousness, all masculine and alpha. Was he worried about me? Did he get any sleep, or was he out all night looking for any sign that I was still alive?

   It calmed me slightly, and when I heard the doors open, my eyes shot open with a start. The strangers were coming out, and none of them looked happy. Daryl made straight for me, motioning for me to follow him, but I kept my spot, refusing to budge until he physically dragged me out and down the steps.

   Once we were away from everyone else, I wrenched my arm free.

   "Stop manhandling me," I hissed as he clenched his fists, trying to get himself under control. "You're no better than Gregory, putting your hands all over me."

   "I ain't propositionin' ya," he barked out as the others started to approach. "But yer going with Aaron."

   "The heck I am," I shot back, growing even surlier when his mouth curved up at my words. "I'm going home. Why can't you get that through your thick skull?"

   "We're not discussin' this again," he announced like that was that, and the leader walked over, setting himself in between us with a warning look to Daryl. Once the tension lowered a few degrees, he gave me his full attention, looking me up and down. It wasn't done in a sexual way, more of an 'I'm getting a sense of the kind of person you are' kind of judgement, and I did the same to him.

   He didn't look like the kind of person to suffer fools, so I had no intention of making myself look like one, but locking eyes with him was akin to a showdown with Negan, since they both had that sharp sort of stare that could bore into your soul and discover your most intimate secrets, and I felt my cheeks start to heat up under the inquisiton of his baby blues.

   "You're a smart girl, aren't you?" he asked, and I fought the urge to be offended, both at the question and the use of the word 'girl'.

   "I'd like to think so," I responded, keeping my gaze locked onto his. If I could handle Negan, I could surely handle this guy, with his cool attitude and rigid stance.

   "Well, then you're smart enough to understand that if we wanted to kill you, any one of us could've done so by now."

   "That thought has occurred to me," I conceded, inclining my head. "But just because Daryl got one up on me doesn't mean I'm going to allow you to retaliate for what Negan has done."

   "I don't plan on retaliating with you," he clarified, closing the short distance between us. "But before we make some heavy decisions, I'd like you to accompany Aaron to our community. I know you know about us, as a Savior, but I want you to see it for yourself, since you've never been there."

   Every time someone referred to me as a Savior was like a shock to my skin. Not enough to physically hurt me, but it was uncomfortable, and I didn't quite have the words to express why, but I kept my face as impassive as possible.

   "What do you really hope to accomplish with me...?" I asked, blanking on his name.

   "Rick," he offered.

   "What is it you think will change, Rick?"

   "I honestly don't know," he sighed, "but if you have any pull whatsoever, you can try to put a stop to this."

   I was growing frustrated, and I threw up my hands.

   "Stop what?" I said, looking from person to person. "This has been the way it is long before I ever got to the Sanctuary. They're organized and disciplined. Nothing I say or do is going to change that."

   "Not necessarily," he replied, running his hand through his messy hair, making it stand up even more. "Maggie seems to think that if there are more people like you there, that you can make a difference, before too many people lose their lives. I don't like killing, but I will to protect my family. Do you understand that?"

   Like so many times in the past few months, I felt like I was standing on the precipice of disaster. I didn't want anyone in danger, least of all Negan. He was the most important person in the world to me, and with Dwight and Sherry no longer around, he was all I had. The idea of losing him to violence scared me like nothing else, and I scanned the group of people that we looking to me for an answer.

   "Are you a man of your word, Rick?" I finally asked, hoping I'd be able to tell if he was lying, but there wasn't a moments hesitation in his response.

   "My word is all I have."

   "Then I'll make you a deal. I'll go back with your man, and I'll listen to anything you guys have to say. But I expect to be treated fairly, and when I'm ready to leave, you give me a car and a knife to defend myself. If I can do anything to help after that, I will. But I make no guarantees. Negan is the boss, and I don't know that anyone or anything can change his mind. But I'll try."

   His eyes lit up with relief and hope, and I had to admit, it gave me a jolt to think that he held me in such esteem. My base desire to be of use was kicking in, and a plethora of imagined scenarios ran through my head, all involving me stopping a war before it started. Men and women looking at me happily as they lived idyllic lives in harmony, and it's a wonder that a choir didn't burst into song in my mind.

  _Vanity, thy name is Marie._

   One hour later, I was scanning the horizon as Aaron drove towards Alexandria, a community often talking about in front of me, but not one I'd ever seen. Truthfully, I was expecting another factory along the lines of Honeywell or the Sanctuary, but when we finally arrived, it was to a gate that left a glimpse of the tops of houses. Nice houses.

   When we were finally granted entry, I had to consciously close my mouth after it popped open in both wonder and surprise. Negan had never, not once, informed me that this place was as nice as it was. Lush, green lawns and grand homes as far as the eye can see. A community flower garden just inside the walls, and people milling about with smiles on their faces, even though they probably had much less to use and eat than ever before, and I scanned the men and women who guarded the perimeter, each of whom was watching the truck with interest.

   Aaron pulled off to the right, just along the wall, climbing out without a word. He went immediately to a slight, young man, embracing him warmly, even as the man gave me a wary look.

   When the two approached me, I remained as calm as I could, in yet another strange place, with people I did not know, and it was becoming a weird occurance in my life. With a small smile, Aaron introduced me to his boyfriend Eric, and he kindly shook hands with me, welcoming me to Alexandria.

   "Did Aaron find you on the road?" he asked politely as I looked to the other man for a cue on how to proceed.

   "She was at the Hilltop, and Rick asked me to bring her here and show her around," Aaron said smoothly, allowing me to follow his lead. Probably the fewer people that knew who I was, the better for the time being.

   "It's nice to meet you," I said, gesturing to the houses. "This place is amazing."

   "Well, let's show you around then," Eric replied, linking arms with Aaron as he started down the street.

   You'd think I just wandered into Disneyland by the way I gawked openly at the two-story homes and clean street as we walked. It was everything I'd ever dreamed of growing up, having been relegated to a small bungalow with my mother and grandmother. I was truly grateful for all that we had, that my mother had worked so hard to provide, but in my daydreams, we won the lottery, and I moved us into a neighborhood that resembled this one, with friendly neighbors and and cookouts that everyone attended.

   And here it was, an oasis in the midst of Hades. It was still intact, showing no signs of the death and destruction that had plagued everywhere else. I could understand almost immediately why Rick and Daryl were so staunch about defending it. What they had was worth more than gold. It was the promise of stability and the old world, and Negan was a direct threat to that.

   Guilt and the beginnings of despair began to trickle through the cracks of my brief feeling of happiness, and I started to try to unpack how in the heck I could help.

   When we reached the back of the community on the right side, Eric led us to a couple of benches that sat underneath two large willow trees that bordered the fence, their long branches making soothing sounds in the gentle breeze that blew through.

   "So, who are you, really?" Eric asked with a crooked smile, ignoring Aaron's furious head shake, and I swung my legs back and forth, bracing myself with my hands on the wood.

   "I'm from the Sanctuary," I mumbled, looking at the ground. "I tried to help Daryl get cleaned up and tended to by our doctor and ending up getting a gun pulled on me. Now, he's at the Hilltop, and I've been brought here."

   "You don't seem like a Savior," Eric observed astutely, and I quirked my head to the right.

   "I haven't been there long."  
We sat in silence for a few minutes, listening to the rustling leaves until a large, balding man came trotting over, looking alarmed.

   "Saviors are approaching fast, and they've brought along a small army," the man told us, sweating profusely.

   I got to my feet in an instant, a tingling sensation traveling along my spine. They were looking for me. Me and Daryl, and when I turned to Aaron, he reached out his hand, taking mine. There was no time to talk or discuss where to put me, he just took over, jogging with me lagging behind him towards a dip in the field.

   He bent over, dragging a sewer grate onto the grass as my head whipped in every direction, sure that I'd be spotted.

   "Down there," he urged me, producing a knife for protection. "Don't wander off and don't make any noise."

   Wide-eyed, I stepped onto the ladder, making my way down as fast as my shaking legs could take me. For the second time in two days, I was hiding from my friends, and I had to remind myself why. If I didn't, the whole situation would explode around me, and I couldn't allow anyone to die because I was here.

   The smell at the bottom could best be described as 'old death', and I pulled my dirty shirt up over my nose and mouth to try and mute the stench. It wasn't just a sewer, it was a walker graveyard, and I stepped over several decayed bodies as I angled myself so that no one could see me if they bent down to look in or shine a flashlight.

   All I could do was wait, and hope that the Savior's search was quick and efficient. Knowing them, they were probably hitting every settlement that they took from, so they wouldn't be hanging around to exchange pleasantries and recipes.

   I listened and I waited, for what felt like hours.

   My reward was a voice that both frightened and aroused me, and I could almost smell him over the scent of death when the sound drifted down to me, so tantalizingly close that I felt like I could nearly reach out and touch him.

   "Listen up, fuckers. You have something that belongs to me, and I want it back. Now. Or one of you dies."

  



	40. In the House of the Setting Sun

   I broke out into a cold sweat as I listened to Negan verbally assault the Alexandrians with every bit of colorful language in the universe, including some possible made up words. Though I had grown used to his profanity, hearing in such harsh tones took me back a step. 

   He was a completely different person when I wasn't around, a fact that I knew, but it was still shocking to witness it firsthand. When he'd taken me to Honeywell for a collection, I had foolishly assumed that most interactions with other communities went the same way, having only a few vague threats thrown around to keep them in line.

   But _this_ , this was far beyond anything I'd ever heard, and it made my skin itch. Of course, it could've also been the dank conditions that I was currently in, but who knows?

   "Your little redneck friend, absconded from my home, and that just isn't cool. Not fucking cool at all, people. Besides shunning my hospitality, he left with one of my workers. A woman. And I want them back. Because for every day that they're gone, I become just a shade fucking less forgiving, and that doesn't bode well for you fuckers. My Lucille misses Daryl terribly, and if she's not happy," he chortled, making me back up a step automatically.

   There was a loud thud, and the sound of several screams, causing my head to snap up in terror. 

   "Damn! He went down like a sack of potatoes. Did you see that?"

   I let out a squeak, clapping my hands over my shirt-covered mouth, closing my eyes as I heard the moans of someone clearly in pain.

   "Get him out of my sight," Negan ordered, he voice retreating. "Can't stand to hear another man crying like a bitch. Saviors," he barked out, " search every home, every room, and every blade of grass in this compound."

   Footsteps above my head began to spread out, and I slid down the wall, clasping my arms around my knees as I tried to process what I just heard. 

   Whoever he hit was probably still alive, and I was thankful for that. But I couldn't stop picturing what Negan surely looked like, swinging his bat on some innocent person who had no idea what was going on, and it made me want to throw up. 

   How on earth do I rationalize my love for this man? 

   I mean, I'm not stupid. The world is no longer one of order and rules, people governed by rule of law or rule of God. I get it. And maybe I've been sheltered, blessed not to see what most people have devolved into while I was safely hidden away in the rectory with Father and the other nuns. But I'd always been able to overlook that side of Negan because it wasn't presented front and center to me. And I wasn't sure that I'd ever see him like he was before.

   But that was my problem, not these other people's, and I fretted internally as I waited to either be discovered or for Negan to leave. Water dripped in an annoying rhythm around me, and I could make out occasional shouts in the open air, but I had no way of knowing what was happening. The only break in my wait was when I heard the nearby groans of a walker, and I got to my feet, stepping cautiously down the nearest tunnel. 

   A decayed, foul-smelling corpse was partially hidden under some crumbling concrete, and nervous that it would call attention to the sewers, I stabbed it in the head, ending its interminable misery before shuffling back to my spot to wait. 

   The tiny amount of light had shifted dangerously when I heard the approach of another human being, and I got to my feet, the knife poised above my head as the grate was dragged from its spot once again. 

   "Marie?" came a whispered voice, and I craned my head to see who it was. "It's Aaron. You can come out now. They're gone."

   It took me a few minutes to work up the courage to ascend the ladder, but by God I did it, shaking legs and all. There was a small pool of blood on the grass as the sun set, and I looked at Aaron with a neutral expression as he led me back around to the other side of Alexandria. 

   "Who did he hit?" I asked casually, trying to seem like I'd seen it many times before. 

   "Tobin," he replied in a caustic voice, striding ahead of me. "Broke his arm."

   As we rounded the bend, I caught sight of something that I'd never thought I'd see again, and I took off at a run, bypassing Aaron as he called after me, but I couldn't be deterred. It was just too beautiful and welcome a sight, shining in the red-orange rays of a dying day, and I whipped open the door, struck silent by the large crucifix that adorned the opposite wall of Alexandria's very own church. 

   My steps were halting, hesitant as I made my way down towards the most awe-inducing sight, and I dropped to my knees just in front of the pulpit, my hands linking together as my eyes watered. Was all of this a sign? I hadn't been found, but I had discovered this...place. This most sacred of places, right here in Alexandria, and I could feel His presence all around me, muting everything else. Negan, Daryl, all of them melted away as I looked up at the first man I'd ever committed myself to, and the words began to flow from my lips as if I'd been holding them in too long.

   "Forgive me, Father," I whispered, looking up at the cross, feeling like I might break and splinter off into a hundred different directions at once. "Forgive me for not speaking to you more. Not trusting in your judgement and wisdom like I used to." 

   The church was eerily silent, with the stained-glass windows painting pretty colors on the old wood floors, giving the spartan space a jolt of much-needed beauty. 

   "Everything has changed in my life in such a short period of time, and it's been easy for me to get lost in the day-to-day of living, now. But I believe," I intoned, curling my fingers down around my hands,"no, I _know_ , that you still have a purpose for me. That you still believe I can do good things, or else why would I still be here? Especially when others who were much better than I could ever be are gone."

   "He's always listening, you know," came a soft voice from behind me, and I whipped my head around to see a man moving towards me, wearing a priest's collar and a machine gun, a study in irony if I ever saw one. Wiping my eyes quickly, I turned my body so that I was facing him, but his hands were up in a show of peace. 

   "Shame on you for wearing that," I said in a shaky voice. "You mock Him by disguising yourself as a man of peace and love."

   The man was smiling, and he approached me, sitting down on the pew across from me before setting the gun aside carefully so as not to startle me. 

   "I wear no disguises, I assure you. These clothes and this collar have been mine since I devoted my life to a higher purpose many years ago, and I wear it proudly, even now."

   I shook my head automatically, unable to reconcile what I was seeing with what I'd always believed, yet here this man stood, a supposed man of God, armed to the teeth, and we studied each other in the quiet close of the day. 

   "I'm Father Gabriel," he told me, giving me the same soft smile. 

   "Marie," I replied slowly as I got to my feet, and he gestured to the empty spot beside him. "I was Sister Marie until I lost my...everything, earlier this year."

   "I'm sorry, Sister," he told me in a subdued tone. "But you'll always be a Bride of Christ, no matter your title. If you've dedicated yourself to His teachings, then you are always welcomed in his Kingdom."

   It struck a nerve, unplugged something that had been blocking my heart for so long, and I let out a gasping cry as my body folded in on itself, and I released all of the worry and pain I didn't even know I was still carrying around inside. This man, Father Gabriel, sat with me until long after dark as I cried. I cried for the person I thought I was, and I mourned the woman I would probably never be, and through it all, Father Gabriel just kept a warm, reassuring hand on my shoulder until I finally let out a shuddering breath.

   "I'm sorry," I sniffled. "I've felt so alone for a long time, and I thought I was the only one left."

   He seemed to understand what I meant, and he chuckled lightly. 

   "I've felt that way myself, many times. But we're here. Still living and still fighting for righteousness."

   "But how can you reconcile this?" I asked, pointing to the machine gun. "How does it fit in with His plans and His teachings?"

   Gabriel looked up at the cross as he took a deep breath, and I waited patiently for him to answer.

   "You know that God taught us that all life is precious," he began as I nodded, "but He also teaches us that we must protect life, and protect the ones we love. It's taken me a long time to come to terms with my role in the new world, but I work as a soldier of God, and I protect the people in this town, my family, from anyone who would threaten them. I don't take the loss of life lightly, Marie, but I do what must be done. It is what has always been done, since humans walked the Earth. Do you understand?"

   I did understand, and it helped that it was another person of the cloth that told me. Because if he could reason away the things that we were doing, and he still felt like a moral person, couldn't I as well?

   "I'm very tired," I said, getting to my feet. "The past few days have been very trying, and I'm sure you know my situation."

   "I do," he replied as he picked up his gun. "But I believe you were brought here for a reason, and not just by Daryl. I think you were meant to see that there are other ways to live, and it's on you to decide what to do with that information. I can only hope and pray that you see the path in front of you, and if you would permit it, I'd like to offer you a room in my house to stay."

   So, I followed this stranger, this man with a collar and a gun out of the church and down the street to a house not far. The lights were on, glowing brightly out into the cooling evening, and he opened the door and ushered me in. 

   Father Gabriel took me upstairs, where he found me a clean pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, showing me to a bathroom. 

   "If you'd like to set your things outside the door, I'll put them into the wash for you, and we can eat."

   "Thank you."

   He nodded and smiled as I closed the door, sitting alone in a clean bathroom with a muddled head. The last few tumultuous days were making my brain fuzzy, and I turned on the water, stripping myself naked before reaching out with one arm to drop my soiled clothes onto the floor. 

   It wasn't the best shower of my life, but it was up there, as it allowed me a chance to get my thoughts and feelings in order. I wanted to go home, back to Negan, that much I knew for sure. And I wanted to explore more of this town before I did. I wanted to understand these people and to see what they'd built here, both physically and emotionally.

   Were they all together because of circumstance like most people at the Sanctuary, or did they really feel like a family here?

   My first answer came as I trotted back down the steps with wet hair and bare feet to find Aaron and Eric sitting at the table with Father Gabriel. They had been having a hushed conversation as I walked in, immediately stopping as I gave them a wary look.

   "There's a girl under all that dirt," Eric joked as he pointed to a seat, and I took it grudgingly, giving him a raised eyebrow. 

   "I don't normally spend my days in a sewer," I reminded him as Father Gabriel passed me a loaf of bread and gestured towards the platter of spaghetti that sat in the middle of the table.

   "What do you spend your days doing?" he asked curiously, but I shrugged my shoulders. 

   "I work wherever I'm needed," I replied, working on maintaining eye contact with him. "Laundry, the kitchen. Things like that."

   I don't know if they believed me, but I wasn't going to say that I was a soldier, because that would just be too unbelievable of a lie. I clearly wasn't experienced, as evidenced by my anticlimactic capture by Daryl. 

   Thankfully, the questions about me and the Sanctuary stopped. Instead, I was offered minor bits of info about Alexandria, such as how it was founded, and the people that lived here. Apparently, Rick and his people had only been here for a few months, right around the time I was brought to the Sanctuary, in fact. Father Gabriel was one of them, much to my surprise. 

   Aaron and Eric had been together since before everything went to hell, and they were very in sync with each other. Timidly, Eric had asked me if I had any issues with gay people, but I waved him off with a smile.

   "That was one of the things that I never quite agreed with, where the Church is concerned," I reassured him, and it was true. "Love is love, and as long as it's two consenting adults, who am I to judge?"

   Aaron glanced at me with a smile before reaching for Eric's hand and bringing it to his lips. It was sweet, but it only made me think about Negan, and how much I missed him, despite the things I'd seen and experienced. He was the enemy of these people, but he was the man I loved, and the ache in my heart only grew. It must have been evident on my face, because Father Gabriel gave me a knowing look.

   "You're missing someone special, aren't you?" he asked quietly.

   "Yes," I sighed. "I am."

   "Well, hopefully, he or she is safe tonight, and I will pray that they are comforted in your absence."

   "Thank you, Father," fighting the hysterical laughter that was bubbling up in my throat. If he only knew who he was praying for.

   Once dinner ended, Aaron and Eric took their leave, after informing me that Rick and the rest of their leaders would be back in the morning and that I'd be able to speak with them. 

   Since I hadn't had a good night's sleep in a few days, I was anxious to sleep, and also just have some quiet time to myself. Father Gabriel took me back up the steps, pointing to a pale pink guest room.

   "Did you need anything else, Marie?" he asked as I hovered by the door. 

   "Actually I do, Father," I murmured as he listened intently.

   "I need you to tie me up."


	41. A Pilgrimage of Many Sorts

   For the fourth time in as many days, I climbed out of the sewer from my hiding spot with some difficulty. My fingernails dug into the wet ground surrounding the grate, and I winced as strong hands helped me to the surface, landing on the rope burns I'd acquired over the last few days.

   "Sorry," Rick muttered as I got to a standing position, checking the reddened areas that now had finger marks to match. 

   "I have to go as soon as it's clear," I said, wiping my hands on my disgusting pants. Every day, the searches became just a little bit longer, and each time I'd tried to leave, I'd have to double back, or I never got the chance. Negan and the Saviors were relentless, coming at all different hours of the day, and each time, I'd barely made it to the sewer. 

   Sooner or later, he'd realize it was there, and then I'd be in huge trouble. Each trip made him just a little more unhinged, a bit more malice showing through, and a deep, dark part of me was touched that he was so intent on finding me. At least, I hoped it was about me, and not the loss of Daryl.

   "Aaron's following from a safe distance. As soon as they're out of sight, you can go," Rick informed me as we walked back towards the front of the community. 

   I wouldn't go so far as to say I'd enjoyed my time here, but it was not as bad as I thought it would be. The best part was meeting Father Gabriel, and we'd spent copious amounts of time together. We'd managed to discuss scripture, but not as much as I'd thought we would. A lot of our time was spent arguing about morality and our places in the grand scheme of things. It made me feel better to know that I wasn't alone, and that I wasn't the only one who struggled to find their way. 

   He seemed very sure of himself and his mission, and we'd talked about what I could and would do when I returned. Part of me was ashamed that I didn't trust him enough to confess who I really was, but he was still a stranger to me, and I didn't know that he wouldn't tell Rick. Still, I found him to be a very kind and caring man, and I hoped that I'd see him again.

   Rick, on the other hand, was harder for me to figure out. I sensed that there was an underlying kindness underneath, but it had been buried beneath the horrors and tragedies that he'd gone through over the past few years. Despite what he thought, I was sure that he was much more like Negan than he was different. They both were strong, possessing a natural leadership quality that couldn't be taught, but he wielded his in a more beneficial way. 

   But, he was just as capable of brutality, and I don't think that he recognized that in himself, and we'd engaged in several heated discussions while I was stuck there. 

   "Don't ever compare me to that asshole," he'd sworn at me, pacing back and forth as I sat calmly on his couch. Michonne, the one that carried the sword, was perched next to me, watching Rick as if she'd seen this dance many times before, and she didn't seem offended by my words. She didn't agree, obviously, but she wasn't taking it personally.

   "I didn't say you were exactly the same," I reminded him as he glared at me. "But you have to admit, sneaking in and executing a mass murder won't get you on the canonization list."

   "Because we felt that was the best way to remove a threat," he replied, his cheeks getting ruddy with emotion. "We didn't want to live under anyone else's thumb."

   "Well, Negan kills for the same reasons, he says. He tries to remove threats incurring the least amount of death as possible."

   "And you believe that?" he laughed as Michonne shot him a look. 

   "I do," I replied, looking between the two of them. "It doesn't mean I agree with killing. I don't agree with what you've done, either. But I'm sitting here, aren't I? I want there to be a peace. I don't want there to be a war."

   Since then, we'd gone round and round as to how to make that happen. I had no clue, but I told him I'd try to talk to Negan as soon as I got back, to try to get him to sit down for a discussion with Rick. 

   "Don't do anything until you hear from me," I warned the Alexandrian leader as he pointed me to an old, grey sedan that I wasn't sure would make it back to the Sanctuary. It had just been brought through the gates after being hidden away. "I'll get a message to you, somehow, either way."

   "We aren't going to take this much longer," he warned me as he opened the door, taking care to stay downwind of me. "Are you sure you can do this on your own?"

   I wasn't, but I nodded anyway. Sure, I'd been out alone at the beginning, before Negan found me, but I'd never strayed far from the rectory, only going out when absolutely necessary and never for very long. And I'd certainly never tried to find my way back to the Sanctuary by myself. I'd always been with Simon, and he drove us everywhere. 

   "Good luck, and get your arms looked at when you get to wherever you're going," he told me, patting on the door twice. He hadn't been happy when he got back and found out Father Gabriel had tied me up, but I needed to look like I'd been held captive, or Negan would figure out that I was free to go at some point. Rick rightfully hadn't wanted the blowback to be on Daryl, but I reminded him that it would be, anyway. "Just make sure he isn't found here for the time being."

   Turning the key, the old car started up with a groan, and I backed it up carefully, trying not to flinch under the several dozen stares that I was currently receiving. The gates were still open, and I eased my way through, exhaling a deep breath when I was outside the walls of Alexandria. 

   I was free for the moment, in a place between two different communities, and for a split second, I thought about just leaving, heading to Morning Star, Virginia and the two people who'd consciously removed themselves from all of this drama. But it wasn't just about me, anymore. I had to at least try to talk to Negan, to get him to see that he was pushing too hard, and it was going to end up in a rebellion. 

   So, with one last look in the rearview mirror, I turned right at the end of the road and attempted to make my way back to the factory. My first stop was at an abandoned gas station a few miles away as I tried to figure out where I was on the map. No one had told me where anything was, and after several fraught minutes, I was able to pinpoint my location, right down to the exact spot, stained by either coffee or blood. I voted for coffee. 

   As my finger traced the route back to the Sanctuary, I took a drink from the water bottle that Rick had given me. I refused any food, knowing that the unhealthier I looked, the more realistic it would be that Daryl and I had been on the run. I had planned a simple story for Negan that we'd moved from place to place, never spending more than one night. The knife at my side and the burns on my wrist were further evidence for my tale, and my appearance definitely wouldn't give the impression that I'd been in Alexandria. 

   Yes, I had all my ducks in a row, until I became hopelessly lost as the sun started to go down. I'd taken a wrong turn at some point, and I ended up on an unfamiliar part of the interstate. Trying to quell the panic that was setting in, I pulled off onto the side of the road to wait it out until the morning. 

   The doors to the car were locked, and the moon was out, giving me a decent sightline, but I couldn't help the tears that dripped down my face as I spent the night alone on a deserted road, with no idea where I was and what I was going home to. I'd never claimed to be brave, and I'd proved it as I clutched at my knife, watching for marauding bands of bad people and the dead that seemed to be everywhere. Out in the elements, all by myself, I was a sitting duck, and easy meal for walkers, or easy prey for anyone with ill intentions, and I don't think I got more than an hour's sleep the entire night, jerking awake every time I dozed off, afraid I'd wake up to find someone attacking me or eating me. 

   Bleary-eyed by the time the sun came up, I finally risked death by stepping just outside the car to pee, and hot-footing it back inside to start the car. God blessed me again by letting it rev up immediately, and I retraced my route, getting back on track by mid-morning. 

   By late afternoon, sweating so heavily that it's a wonder I didn't turn into a puddle, I saw the familiar landscape that proved to me that I was close to home, and I pressed my foot on the gas, speeding the old, grey clunker through the streets a few miles away from the Sanctuary, nearly shouting in relief when I saw the smokestacks jutting out of the sky. 

    _Home. Negan._

   I barrelled towards the gates, not even thinking about the fact that no one could see me through the dirty, cracked windshield, slamming to a stop just a few feet from the gate. There were at least six machine guns trained on me when I looked up, and Chevy yelled out for me to exit the vehicle with my hands up. 

   Shaking like a leaf, I did as he asked, making eye contact with him as his mouth dropped open.

   "Let her in!" he shouted down, reaching frantically for his radio as I collapsed back behind the wheel, managing to make it through the opening without sideswiping one of the other guards who was standing just inside. 

   Before I even had the car turned off, I was pulled out of the door by strong arms and wrapped in a bear hug so tight that I saw stars. 

   "Jesus-tapdancing-Christ, kid," Simon said in a breaking voice. "I thought you were dead."

   "I will be if you don't ease up," I choked out as he loosened his hold slightly, though he lifted me up off the ground as he swung me around. 

   "Do you know how worried we've been?" he scolded me after setting me down, and I saw clear pain and anger in his eyes, reminding of what a father should look like. He'd lost his own daughter, and my eyes filled with guilty tears as a few people gathered around. He knew I didn't just take off, but he was still upset with me, because he was worried, and I tried not to take it personally, to appreciate it for what it was. 

   "I'm sorry," I said, wiping my face. "I didn't know what else to do. He got Joe's gun off of me and he said he'd kill me and as many people as it took, and I couldn't-"

   My words were cut off as he buried my face in his chest, holding me firmly against it. The knotted ball of angst and fear loosened just a bit as he walked me towards the entrance, ordering everyone to get back to work. "This isn't a goddamned peep show."

   Once we got to the stairwell, he let me go, patting me on the shoulder. 

   "Negan's been notified that you're back, and he's hauling ass to get here. Go and get cleaned up, and I'm going to have some food sent up. You look like shit," he told me with a small smile, and I sniffled as he fished out an old-fashioned handkerchief out of his pocket. "I'll see you soon, kid."

   Nodding silently, I opened the metal door, taking my time as I made the long trek up to the top floor. I don't know why, but it felt like it had been years since I'd been here, and I looked around dazedly as I moved, drinking in every crack in the wall, every divot in the floor until I opened the door to the top floor, inhaling deeply. It smelled like a mixture of perfume and Negan.

   Thankfully, no one was in the lounge as I trudged past, and I walked to Negan's door, knocking my head into it unexpectedly when I tried to walk through it, only to find it locked. Rubbing my forehead, I went back to the wives' bathroom, pressing the lock and shutting myself inside the pristine room with a wondering look. 

   With my nasty clothes in a pile and an army of beauty products at my disposal, I managed to turn my brain off for a while as I concentrated on cleaning and scrubbing every nook and cranny on my body, shaving some rather neglected areas and feeling a weird sense of satisfaction as I watched the accumulation of dirt swirl down the drain, making the past several days feel more like a dream than a reality. 

   By the time I shut the water off, my entire body was almost as red as the burns around my wrist, and I wrapped a big, fluffy towel around my body since I hadn't bothered to stop back at my room for a change of clothes. Peeking out of the door, I was relieved to see that I was still alone, and I tiptoed down the hall, making it halfway to my room when the stairwell door flew open, nearly making me drop my towel.

   Negan was breathing heavily as we locked eyes, and I took a fearful step back when faced with the look in his eyes. They were wild, almost animalistic, and I was terrified of the intensity radiating out of them, spurring me to run for the safety of my room to avoid a serious tongue lashing.

   He was only a few steps behind me, and he threw my door closed as soon as he got into my room, backing me towards the bed as I held my shaking hand up. 

   "Don't-" I began, but he didn't let me finish. I'd grossly miscalculated his reaction, proven by the fact that he reached down so quickly that it was a blur, sweeping my thighs up in his big hands, prompting me to grasp onto his shoulders in a death grip to keep from falling backward and cracking my head open. 

   When my legs locked around his waist, he let them go, squeezing my torso harder than Simon did as he buried his face in my chest, letting out a ragged breath that I could feel through the terry cloth material that separated us.

   "Did he hurt you?"

   The question was muffled against my body as I let him dump me onto the bed, the heaviness of his body a welcome sensation as his eyes drank in my face like I was the most important thing in his life, making goosebumps form all over my skin.

   "Angel, did he hurt you?" he repeated as I shook my head. "Did he touch you?"

   I understood right away what he was asking, and I murmured out a quiet but clear 'no'. 

   Like I'd just given him a green light, his hands and mouth were on me in an instant, fingers roaming and caressing wherever his lips weren't. I was limp, unable to do anything but lay there as he yanked the towel from around me, moving in a near frenzy. My shoulders, my breasts, even my ribcage. None of it escaped his attention as I trembled underneath his touch, overwhelmed with his skin, his smell. Everything. 

   It was a testament to how far gone I was that I didn't stop him when his head moved lower until it was between my legs. I'd never let him do anything like that before, having stood firm through tantrums, pleadings, and enough cajoling that any other woman would've crumbled under long before me. Given my limited experience before Negan came along, I'd never felt comfortable enough with myself to engage in that sort of intimate sex act, but he was there now, nibbling and sucking on the tender insides of my thighs as I stared up at the ceiling. 

   As soon as his tongue made contact, my hips bucked up in surprise at the foreign feeling, a red blush forming on my neck as he pressed down on my stomach to still me. I couldn't think, couldn't process anything while he was down there other than the fact that it felt so good. Every time he swept his tongue in a circle, or dipped it inside, I let out a breathy moan that only seemed to encourage him, and he moved faster, reaching blindly up to shove a finger into my mouth. 

   Weakly grasping his hair, I attempted to move his head to buy myself a few seconds reprieve, but it was like trying to push a statue. He was immovable, and I ended up digging my nails into his scalp as the sensation built, making me cry out in anguish and pleasure at the same time, sucking in a hoarse breath as I came down. It was different, more intense than when I usually orgasmed, and I wiggled my hips to get him to stop touching the sensitive area. 

   "I can't," I gasped as his thumb moved in a circle over my nub, flinching at an aftershock, squeezing my thighs against his head. "No more."

   Grunting, he lifted his face to study me, his hair sticking up every which way as he crawled back on top of me, his belt buckle digging into my stomach. 

   "Do you have any idea what went through my head when I came back and found out what happened?" he whispered into my lips, keeping his eyes trained on mine. 

   "It wasn't like Dwight and Sherry," I said defensively as he stared at me impassively. "He got the gun off of me and threatened me. I didn't want to die, Negan, and I didn't want him to hurt anyone else." 

   His eyelids closed slowly, and I waited with a pounding heart for him to say something. That he believe me, that I was a liar. Anything. 

   "I thought you were dead," he muttered, dropping his head so that he was laying on my chest, his face turned towards mine. "I thought you were gone forever after I just fucking got you back."

   It was my turn to soothe him, and I ran my hand along his cheek over and over, kissing him on the forehead. 

   "I tried to figure out a way to stop it without anyone getting hurt, but I couldn't. It was the only way I knew to keep something bad from happening. I'm so sorry."

   "When I find that son of a bitch, he's going to be a fucking grease stain on the gravel, I promise you, Angel," he said into my neck as I shook my head. 

   "I don't think you're going to find him," I lied as he lifted himself up onto his elbows. As briefly as I could, I told him the story I'd concocted about him moving us from place to place, showing him the rope marks, which in hindsight might not have been a good idea, because the murderous look that formed on his features made my insides freeze.

   "Anyway," I said, trying to catch Negan's attention. "When I woke up yesterday, he was gone. He'd left me the car, a bottle of water and a knife. He'd talked about Georgia. I think he went back there. He's not dumb enough to stick around."

   "Bullshit," Negan snapped, making me blink rapidly. "He's loyal, which is as good as being brain-dead. There's no way he's leaving his people permanently, and I'll be goddamned if I'm not going to be there waiting when he comes back."

   "Negan, can we please..." I trailed off as he focused back on me. "I don't want to do this right now. I'm overwhelmed and just happy to be alive and home with you. Can we just enjoy that for one night? Please?"

   Just like that, the anger was gone, and the sweetest smile I'd ever seen took its place, knocking the breath from my lungs when he bent down to kiss me, the kind of romantic moment that usually only occurred in the movies or some trashy novel, and it left me in a daze. 

   "Can I have my medal now?" I panted when he broke away from me with a confused look until he got the reference, laughing in a rough, deep voice. He rolled off of me and stuck his hand in his pocket with a smirk as I watched with interest. I wasn't prepared for what came out as he held his hand out to me. 

   "I don't have a medal, but I've been hanging onto this since the day you were taken," he told me in a gentle voice. 

   "You want me to be a wife?" I asked in a strangled voice as I glared at him first, then the diamond ring in between his fingers. 

   "No, Angel," he replied in a placating voice. "I want you to be my fiance for real. Not some bullshit wives arrangement. I want you for good. A real commitment between you and me."

   Oh. _Oh._

    _Plot twist_ , was my only thought as I stared at him dumbfounded.


	42. Commitment is a Four-Letter Word

   The ring on my finger glinted in the morning light, and I moved it to and fro, watching as the specks of light swayed correspondingly on the wall. Negan rolled over and kissed my spine between my shoulder blades, and I fought the urge to move away from it, freezing as he continued to trail kisses around my neck, turning me onto my back.

   "Fucking Angel is going to make me late," he murmured, sliding on top of me as I braced his shoulders with my hands.

   "Where are you off to today?" I asked, tilting my head to the side as he grazed the sensitive skin under my jaw with his teeth, my eyes still on the ring. I had to admit it was pretty, just a simple white gold band with a round-cut diamond. Not too flashy, he'd told me when he slipped it on my finger. Singular and beautiful, just like me.

   "Simon and I are taking the new recruits to Honeywell and then to the Kingdom to show them how it's done. I won't be back until after dark," he said before dragging his tongue along the hollow of my throat. "Be right here in this exact fucking spot when I get back so I can show you how much I'll be thinking about you all day."

   "Of course, sweetie," I said with a lilt in my voice, closing my eyes.

   Before he could get too worked up, he eased himself off of the bed, going to his drawer and pulling out a pair of jeans, the black ones that he'd worn on the day we met along with his standard white t-shirt, and I raised myself up on my elbows to watch him, my pinky finger rubbing against the band, twirling the stone around and around.

   "Those are the same clothes you wore on the day we met," I pointed out as he looked over his shoulder at me with a smile.

   "And why do you sound so damned sad about it?"

   "I'm not sad," I denied, sitting up all of the way. "I just realized how much I've changed since then. How much everything has."

   "It's not a good thing?" he asked, cocking his eyebrow with a grin as he slid the shirt over his head.

   "It is."

   Negan lost the teasing tone of his voice and he picked up his boots, sitting down by my feet as he put them on.

   "Are you okay, Angel? You've been quiet the last few days. I know you've been through a lot, but you can talk to me. No judgement on my end."

    _Can I? Can you?_

   With a superhuman effort, I pasted a smile on my face, leaning forward to give him a short kiss.

   "I'm okay," I assured him as he looked me over, making my cheeks start to burn. "You don't have to worry about me."

   Not anymore.

   The air around us was thick, and he stood up, grabbing his coat off of the chair where he'd thrown it the night before. Shrugging into it, he bent down and touched his lips to my forehead, breathing deeply.

   "I'll see you tonight, Angel."

   He was already out the door and down the hall when I answered in a soft voice.

   "Goodbye, Negan."

   As soon as I heard the metal door to the steps open and close, I shot out of the bed, positioning myself at the window to watch him leave, and sure enough, he came strolling out into the yard with Simon, his hands moving animatedly as they walked towards one of the trucks. Worker bees were busy buzzing around him as they gathered up a cache of weapons to take with them, and I saw Simon's head fall back as he laughed at something that Negan said.

   I, on the other hand, felt nothing but the need to vomit and cleanse the feel of him from my body as I watched the man that I thought loved me hoist himself up into the passenger's seat, shutting the door behind him.

 

 

   We were laying in my bed, my mouth hanging open as he held out the ring in front of him. He'd just told me that he wanted to marry me in the traditional sense, leaving me at a loss for words.

   "I told you how important the institution of marriage is to me," I whispered as his face fell. "It's not a joke."

   "Do I fucking look like I'm joking?" he snapped, killing the mood in one sentence. "I'm fucking laying here, heart in hand, telling you that I want to be with you forever, and you're giving me shit."

   My eyes started to water, and I blinked rapidly to try to keep the tears from falling, feeling like the world's biggest jerk.

   "I'm sorry. I'm just...shocked," I told him, grabbing his arm as he went to turn away. "I love you, Negan. I just never thought that-"

   "Jesus, Marie," he said, wrenching his arm out of my grasp. "I told you before that I loved you, and I meant it. I've been fucking carrying this thing around since before you left, and I spent days thinking I was going to have to put it on a corpse's finger. You have no idea what I-"

   He stopped himself, taking a deep breath as he sat up and put his feet on the floor, bending over and putting his head in his hands. I scrambled to my knees, wrapping my arms around his shoulders and squeezing him to me, kissing the back of his head.

   "I'm so sorry."

   He let me suffer in silence for about five minutes before he finally lifted his head, leaning it back against my shoulder.

   "Not knowing what happened to you made me crazy. As crazy as I was at the beginning when I lost Lucille and I was spinning out of control. I don't ever want to feel like that again. I can't do it. Don't make me, Angel."

   His words were like a punch to my heart, and I shuddered against him, searching for anything I could say or do that would take the pain I'd caused him away. There was only one way to do it, and with a deep breath, I whispered into his ear.

   "I would be honored to marry you."

   I held out my hand in front of him, albeit shakily, and he slid the diamond ring onto my finger, where we both looked at it for a long time. It fit nicely, and he leaned forward, bringing it to his lips.

   I felt, sick, nervous, and happy all at once, with this man in front of me and an uncertain future looming overhead. Not only was I fighting with my personal choices, I was morally fighting with the urge to tell him the truth, not wanting to start a life together saturated with lies, and it was on the tip of my tongue to confess when someone knocked at the door.

   Since I was still naked, I dove under the covers, pulling them up to my chin, and Negan went to see who it was. The mousy girl from the kitchen was holding a tray of food, and she handed it over to him with downcast eyes as he shut the door in her face.

   Deciding to ignore his rudeness for the time being, I wrapped the sheet around my body before he set the plate on the bed, removing the cover to reveal a steaming pile of eggs and bacon along with toast and juice. It had to be the best meal I'd ever seen, given my starving state, and I dug in, finishing one of the pieces of toast in three bites as Negan smirked down at me.

   "Well, that's one way to celebrate," he joked as I stopped chewing and stared at him.

   "Just give me a half an hour and I'll rock your world," I mouthed around the food, keeping my promise when I was done.

   As I rolled off of Negan's sweaty chest, he let out a moan of satisfaction, stretching his arms up to the ceiling. He was spent, and so was I as I kissed him on the chest, right above his heart.

   "Do you want to go into your room?" I asked as he turned to the side to face me. "Your bed's bigger. Hey, why was the door locked, by the way?"

   He frowned at me, brushing the damp hair off of my face.

   "The room is a fucking wreck right now, and I have to have someone clean it up."

   Well, that was odd, I thought. Negan was nothing if not meticulous about his things, not wanting so much as a pen out of place, and I assumed it was because of the emotional upheaval he'd been through over the last several days. With a pang of guilt, I shifted closer to him, wiping off a bead of sweat that had formed along his temple.

   "I'll clean it up," I told him, but he shook his head quickly.

   "No, I'll have it done tomorrow," he insisted. "I want you to take it easy over the next few days. Stay in bed and relax. You're fucking skin and bones and your only job is to recuperate and be here waiting for me to ravish your body."

   Like clockwork, I started to blush at his lewdness, and he turned off the light, darkening the room as I settled myself in his arms. He fell asleep almost immediately, while I laid awake for hours trying to figure out what I was going to do. Every time I'd tried to lie to him, I always chickened out, and I didn't want our relationship to be defined by choices I'd made without including him. If we were truly going to be joined together forever, I'd have to find a way to broach the subject of Alexandria to him, to see if there was any way to change how they were being treated.

   The problem was, I knew it was fruitless, deep down in my heart. Negan had ruled the area for a long time, and he craved the power and all the perks that came with it. He'd never give into someone else, because he thought that it would make him look effete to his Saviors, and benevolence was akin to weakness in his eyes. For not the first time, I wondered how the two of us ever managed to come together since we saw the world so differently.

   The next morning, I woke up to the sound of a jacket being zipped up, and I let out a grumble into the pillow.

   "I didn't catch that, Angel," Negan said as he came around to my side of the bed.

   "I said, how can you wear that thing when it's so freaking hot out?"

   He let out a booming laugh, and I jumped about five feet into the air, making him lose it even more. Stubbled cheeks rubbed along my bare back as I reached blindly to push him off, but he persisted, and I gave up, letting him do what he wanted until he answered me.

   "It's my signature look, baby," he purred into my skin as I rolled over, getting a leering smile. "It's also as intimidating as hell, and well worth the possible heat stroke."

   I was too tired to even manage an eye roll, and he slid the sheet down to my waist as I yawned, running his fingers over my breasts.

   "I'll be back after dark," he informed me as I nodded. I figured as much, and I smiled as he covered me back up. "Call and order breakfast in a bit, and spend the day relaxing."

   I wouldn't, but he didn't have to know that, and I pulled him in for a kiss. When we separated, he looked at me for a while, knowing that I hated it, and when I tried to pull the covers over my head, he chuckled, though much softer than before.

   "I fucking missed you," he murmured as he got to his feet, leaving without another word.

   After he left, I went back to sleep for an hour or so, feeling much more alert the second time I got up. It was only mid-morning, but I didn't want to waste the day, so once I got changed, I went into the lounge.

   Only Phoebe and Alicia were in there, and they both let out a shriek when I came wandering in, slamming into me at the same time.

   "Thank God you're okay," Phoebe screeched into my ear as I hugged her back. "We were so worried about you, and Negan told us we weren't allowed to come and see you last night."

   "I'm glad to be back," I said, letting them herd me towards the couch. While we waited for the kitchen to bring up some food, I told them the same story I'd told Negan about Daryl taking me, but I toned it down slightly since they both looked horrified.

   "Oh, Marie, that's just so scary," Alicia sympathized, biting her lip. "If it were me, I don't think I would've been able to get him out. I would've just frozen up for sure."

   "Believe me, I almost did. I just...didn't want anyone else to get hurt."

   The two of them chattered on, and I felt like a spectator as they came up with off the wall scenarios that they'd never be able to muddle their way through until the kitchen finally sent up some fruit. My shadows followed me over to the table, sitting on either side of me as I ate, and I started to wish I'd just stayed in my room.

   I dearly cared about both women, but spending time with them only highlighted the different kind of friendship I'd had with Sherry. She would've been able to tell that I didn't want to keep talking about it, and she would have just let me decompress and wrap my head around everything I'd been through.

   It wasn't until I'd shoved my plate away that they noticed the ring on my finger, and Phoebe gasped in surprise, yanking my hand nearly off of my body as she pulled it towards her so that she could see it.

   "He proposed to you?" she practically screamed loud enough for the entire compound to hear, making the blood in my head pound.

   "Yes."

   Her eyes were as wide as saucers, and she exchanged looks with Alicia, whose eyes had filled with tears.

   "Congratulations," she mumbled before taking off out of the room, leaving me sitting there in shock.

   "Why is she upset?" I managed to ask as Phoebe dropped my hand, avoiding eye contact with me all of a sudden, giving me a sickening feeling in my gut.

   "Oh, uh, she's still hung up on that guy," she said, stumbling over her words. "I should go check on her."

   With that, she hurried towards the door, stopping just before it.

   "Congratulations, Marie," she told me softly, trying to smile. "I hope you'll be happy."

   The top of my scalp was burning and I knew something was terribly wrong. Something had happened when I was gone, something bad. The problem was, I didn't know what to do or how to go about finding out what. Simon wasn't going to tell me, and neither were the girls. I certainly didn't know Kim and Brit, the new ones well enough to ask, and I held my stomach as I walked back to my room to lay on my bed and worry.

   Did Negan say something to upset them while I was gone? Did he lash out at them? Did he hurt someone?

   The possibilities were endless, and with a burst of nervous energy, I knew exactly how to work it off. I poked my head out of the room, finding the hallway empty, and I snuck over to Sherry's old room. Kim and Brit were set up down the hall in Carolyn's room, and I opened the door, greeted immediately by the smell of stale perfume.

   I walked around in a circle like a lost poppy, weirdly disappointed that Sherry wasn't in there even though I knew she was gone, and after a few seconds of indecision, I opened the closet door, reaching up on my tiptoes to feel for the key that was hidden on top of the moulding inside the door. My fingers brushed over the brass key, and I plucked it off of the dusty ledge, curling my fingers protectively around it.

   Sherry had told me where she kept the key to Negan's room, and I damned near ran to the door to sneak inside. My hands were shaking as I shut myself inside, looking around in disbelief at the state of the area. Well, he wasn't lying. The place was a wreck.

   The cushions from the couch were scattered along the floor. Some of the cd's had been knocked off of the shelf, and there were clothes everywhere, punctuated by dirty dishes and empty alcohol bottles.

   The bedroom was just as bad, the covers shoved to the end of the bed and pillows thrown all over the floor.

   Not knowing where to begin, I decided to remake the bed, tossing the comforter onto the floor. The top sheet was balled up, and I shook it to replace it when something came flying out, landing at my feet.

   My entire body and mind went numb as I bent down, picking up a pair of lacy, red panties.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just breathe...
> 
>  
> 
> (I'm mostly talking to myself)


	43. Divinity Revisited

   I didn't move from the window until Negan's truck turned the long corner out of sight of the Sanctuary, and once I knew he was gone, I went straight to his bathroom, showering the feel of him off of my skin, hopefully for good. 

   Clad only in a towel, I walked back into his bedroom, stopping at the foot of the mattress where I'd found that red pair of panties a few days before, remembering that deadened, sick feeling I had when I picked them up off of the floor, knowing exactly how much he'd truly missed me while I was gone. 

   Though my body was still numb, my brain came into sharp focus immediately, every excruciating, nauseating detail of the bed burned into my memory for eternity. The stains that were on the sheets in the middle stood out like they were doused in neon colors, sending me to the bathroom to dry heave over the toilet. 

   While I clutched the porcelain, the ring on my finger that he'd given me the night before sat prominently in front of me, mocking my stupidity. I had to be the biggest fool that ever walked the earth, and I'd ripped it off of my hand, throwing it to the ground with a moan. 

   Everything Negan had told me about the time I was gone was a lie. Sure, he missed me. Maybe he even loved me, but his sick, diseased mind had still been preoccupied with sex and his own comfort, in the bed that I had spent the last several weeks in, no less. Another wave of revulsion overpowered me, and I heaved my breakfast into the water, feeling an ache in my jaw when I flushed it away. 

   As I rinsed my mouth out, I thought about Alicia's reaction, and I was positive that she was the owner of the red panties. Negan wasn't the man she was in love with, but that didn't stop her from fulfilling her duty as his wife, and I was also sure that she'd been threatened into not confessing to me. Ever. 

   The bizarre part was that I didn't even blame her. I didn't hate her and I didn't feel the need to lash out at her. All of my feelings were directed at Negan, the man that I'd given my heart and my body to. What I'd shared with him, bestowed upon him was gone forever, and I'd never get it back. He'd destroyed me, just like Father Thomas warned me, and he'd tainted my soul with his wrongness. 

   My first instinct was to run away like I always did. I'd done it since the day the man in black had shown up in my life, and I was halfway to the door of his room when everything it me. Like a broken faucet, once the tears started, they wouldn't stop, and it was like someone had died. 

   Maybe I was just mourning the man that I thought he was, and would never be. I certainly mourned the life I'd hoped to have with him and the fact that his lies were so much worse than mine. My betrayals paled in comparison to his, because they were personal. When I'd helped Sherry and Dwight, it wasn't because or about him. Daryl, as well. I'd lied about my whereabouts because I didn't want to hurt anyone. 

   But not Negan. He'd proposed to me knowing that he'd betrayed the one thing I'd asked him not to do. He hadn't honored his commitment, and he probably never had any intention of telling me about it. 

   So in the end, after crying in his office for what felt like an eternity, I walked back to the bathroom and put the ring back on, rearranging the bed to look like it had before and balling the underwear in my fist as I went back to my room to figure out what I was going to do.

   Now, less than a week later, Negan had made my decision for me, and I pulled out the few outfits I'd kept in his room, dressing in one of them before stuffing the rest in my backpack that I'd hidden underneath his bed. 

   I was only taking a few things with me, since I'd never be able to leave the gates if I was lugging around a big bag with everything I owned. Inside with the clothes were a few notes and the map to find Sherry, along with a bag of food and some bottles of water. Sitting at the bottom were my crucifix, bible, and a cd I had stolen from Negan's collection. A knife was my only weapon, and I tucked it into my belt, carrying the bag out to the office and having a seat at his desk. 

   Taking a deep breath, I removed the ring one last time and set it on the desk, laying his necklace down as well. Between the two pieces of jewelry, I put the red panties, a trio of turning points in our relationship staring me in the face. 

   In the bottom drawer of Negan's desk were some sheets of paper and pens, and I plucked one of each out, writing him a letter with shaking hands.

 

  _I was gone for less than a week. How many of those days did you mourn me? How many of them were spent hoping that I would be back? How many of them did you spend having sex with someone else?_

_Then, I was back for almost a week. How many of those days did you try to tell me what happened? How many of them were spent contemplating how to move past it?_

_Every day I waited for you to tell me the truth. I'm a forgiving person. You know that, and all you had to do was just tell me, and we could've figured out a way to work through it, get past it. But you didn't. You brought me back into your bed, making me lay where you screwed someone else, and it never once made you feel uncomfortable, or remorseful._

_Everything I've done that hurt you was peripheral to our relationship, an attempt to help others. Yours was selfish, and it preyed on every insecurity I've ever held, especially in regards to you._

_I never in my life thought that your touch would repulse me, but I've wanted to flay the skin from my body each time you put your hands on_ me, _because everything behind it was a lie. Your respect for me is non-existent, and over the past week, all I've been able to think about when I look at you are Father Thomas's words, knowing he was right._

_"He'll tempt you, and defile you, and you'll be damned for eternity."_

_That's what he said that day, and he had you pegged. But a part of me doesn't even blame you anymore. I blame myself, for trying to see in you something that was never there. We were always on two different paths, and my unrealistic hopes and love for you clouded my vision._

_So, I'm making the decision for both of us. I release you from your vows, Negan. You're free to sleep with your wives and bash people over the skull with your_ bat, _and go back to your old life, and I can try to put the pieces of my heart back together._

_I know my way, now._

_Marie_

 

   With each letter I put to paper, I felt a stabbing pain in my heart, knowing that when he came back and found this, it might set off a chain of events that I could no longer be on top of. But I had to save myself, and maybe others in the process, and I set the paper against the lamp, reaching into my bag for one more thing. 

   To replace his necklace, I'd bought another one from the marketplace, a gold cross that I hid under my shirt. That way it still looked like I was protected, and I could b.s. my way out of the factory. 

   I wouldn't, I couldn't look around as I slung the bag over my shoulder, leaving his room with a quiet close of a door. My feeling was that he'd had his chance to clear the air between us, and he didn't. When he'd questioned me about Dwight and Sherry, I couldn't lie to him. I'd confessed immediately, but I wasn't afforded the same respect. I wasn't given _any_ respect, and it made me feel as impotent as some nameless person outside the Sanctuary that was forever at his mercy. 

   All of the wives were up on the roof, and I walked with purpose down the hall, taking the steps two at a time to reach the main floor. The only person that I hated to not be able to say goodbye to was Simon, and I hoped that one day he'd forgive me for not heeding his advice. For getting him physically injured, and for what I was about to do.

   The door to the garage was open, and I walked through with my head held high and my bag on my shoulder, finding the two idiots that unwittingly helped Daryl and I escape, working on a huge Jeep. 

   Jesse's head appeared from inside the front hood, wide-eyed and nervous. 

   "I assume I don't have to remind you who I am," I said loudly as he stood up, smacking his head on the hard metal. 

  "Uh uh," he stuttered, climbing over the side of the car as I approached him. His eyes noted the gold chain, and I held out my hand for a set of keys. "I got in a lot of trouble last time for letting you out."

   "Do I look like I'm being held captive?" I snapped, wiggling my fingers. "Give me a car, now."

   "I can't," he said apologetically, and I screwed up the last of my courage, storming over to the office. 

   "Then give me a radio, so that I can call Negan. I'll need to let him know that I can't meet him at Honeywell like he asked. He'll be thrilled, I'm sure."

   Thank the Lord that he bought it, because he ducked behind the counter, going directly to the keys hanging on pegs and removing a set, handing them over.

   "Please don't get me in trouble," he asked, biting the inside of his cheek. 

    _You're on your own, pal_ , I thought, struck at once by my own cruelty. 

   "Just get back to work," I sighed, pressing the little key fob, following the beeping sounds to a pretty nice newish car. Jesse opened up the garage door, and I drove out with sweaty palms and a rapidly beating heart. He was easy enough to intimidate, but the guards were a different story. Luckily, I had worked on my lying, and I made my way to the entrance, stopping once I'd been waved at. 

   Tommy was guarding the entrance, one of Negan's newer guys, and he approached me cautiously, having been recently put on the wall. 

   "Good morning," I said in my most confident voice, giving him a smile. "I'm heading out to meet Negan."

   "He didn't say anything about it when he left," Tommy told me as he peeked into the car, spying my bag and knife that were sitting next to me. 

   "That's because I'm going to surprise him," I answered, keeping the grin on my face as I felt my chest start to get warm. "He's on his way to Honeywell, and I can catch up to him if I hurry."

   "I don't know about this. After what happened the last time..." he trailed off, and my hopes of getting out began to take a nosedive. If he had any doubt, all he had to do was pick up his radio and call, and I'd be trapped here forever with him. The cheater and liar, and I just couldn't do it, I knew it deep down in my heart and soul. Negan would lie to me, try to convince me that nothing happened and that I was crazy, and I just might be stupid enough to fall for it. 

  While I scrambled to come up with another tack, the passenger door opened and I jumped, almost hitting my head on the ceiling as Charlie dropped into the seat, out of breath. 

   "Pretty sneaky trying to leave without me," he panted, giving Tommy a wink. "I'm to accompany Miss Marie on any trips out of the Sanctuary going forward."

   Like any good misogynist, Tommy relaxed almost immediately, smirking at Charlie and waving towards the gate. I, meanwhile, sat stone-faced as I contemplated just going back inside, not wanting to subject Charlie to a harsh punishment. But my desperation to be free overrode my protective instincts, and as soon as the gate was opened wide enough, I sped through, nearly ripping the wheel off as I pressed down on the gas.

   Poor Charlie was hanging on for dear life, and once we were out of sight of the Sanctuary, I slammed on the breaks, sending the car skidding several feet.

   "Get out," I hissed at him, reaching over to open the door. "Before you get into trouble."

   "No," he said harshly, making me blink in surprise. "Whatever you're doing, you shouldn't be alone."

   Charlie was nice, too nice, and it was going to get him killed. Another life I had to worry about, and I reached for my knife to show him how serious I was. But he was faster than me, and he snatched it up, holding it behind his side against the car door as I let out a screech of frustration.

   "You can't help me, Charlie. You can't protect me and you can't do this. It's only going to get you the iron, or worse."

   "I made a conscious choice to get in the car," he said, twisting to face me. "Whatever you're doing, I know that you're not going back there, and I'm going to help you."

   "You can't," I mumbled, sniffing back the tears that were waiting to fall. I didn't have time for it right now. I had to get as far away as I could before someone came looking for me. "You need to worry about yourself. Everything I thought I had there was a lie, and I can't-" 

   Charlie pulled me into a hug, holding me firmly, and I let out a cry, resting my head against his shoulder for a long time, breathing in the faint smell of herbs and sweat, plunging me back to a time when I thought that he was my savior, not Negan, and it was my undoing. 

   There, on the side of the road, in another man's arms, I confessed everything. My relationship and feelings for Negan, my attempts to remain true to who I was and how it led to Daryl's escape, and the people I met at the other communities. Through it all, Charlie kept a comforting hold on me, his steady breaths a touchstone for my sadness. 

   "So, I really need you to go back," I finally shuddered, pushing him away from me. "You need to stay safe, from everything that's coming."

   "You can't change anything, Marie. He's just too powerful. And he will use everything at his disposal to find you."

   I shook my head in denial. 

   "He doesn't know I've been to the other communities. They're different, Charlie. They want peace. They want to work together, and they're right. The way Negan does things is messed up."

   "I know that. Don't you think most of us know that?" he asked, his face screwing up in frustration. "Gerald was beaten within an inch of his life when Negan found out that he was the one who let you go with Daryl. We all had to watch."

   Again, that sickening feeling flooded my system, and I buried my head in my hands. "But are you doing this because he broke your heart, or because it's the right thing to do?"

   The truth was that it was both, and it was a bitter pill to swallow. However, my own sense of retribution was second to the fact that if I succeeded, he'd never hurt anyone else again.

   Charlie could see the conflict as it played across my face, and he handed me the knife, unlocking the door. 

  "I'll give you a couple hours to get where you're going, and then I'll head back."

   "Are you sure?"

   He smiled at me, that sweet smile that charmed me when we first met, and I wished I could go back in time to when I was naive enough to think that he was the one for me. 

   "I'll tell them that you knocked me out and took off. When everything dies down, I'll find you."

   I wanted to tell him that I was sorry. That I wished I had chosen differently when I could've, and he stepped out of the car. My chance was gone, and he came around to the other side. 

   "I'll try to help you in any way I can. Just tell me where and when," he said, kissing me on the forehead, leaving a warm feeling where his lips touched my skin.

   "The Hilltop," I murmured, running my thumb along his cheek before leaving him standing in the middle of the road, his hands in his pockets as he stared after me. 

   I was free, for the time being, not handcuffed to the Sanctuary or any other community, much like I was when I left Alexandria. If I wanted, I could just take out the map that led to Sherry and be on my way, and I went as far as unzipping my backpack, searching through my meager belongings until I felt the familiar paper under my touch. 

   But what I wanted would have to wait. I needed to go to the Hilltop and talk to Daryl's people, to see if they were willing to hear me out. Only then would my conscience be clear, and I could begin to live again without Negan in my life. 

   His face forced its way into my mind as I drove, and I struggled to understand why he was the way he was. I wasn't ignorant to the fact that he'd faced a life-changing loss when his wife died at the beginning. But how long can someone use that as a crutch for every bad decision that they make? And in what capacity would he think it was okay to sleep with someone else when the person that he claimed to love was missing?

   Oh, who was I kidding? This was a man that had no less than five wives at one point. Why on earth did I think that I'd mean more to him than that?

  _Because he told you he did. He told you he loved you, that he wanted to start a life with you. Every night he'd hold you, telling you about his past, and how he wasn't going to make the same mistakes with you that he did with Lucille._

   "Shut up," I muttered to my stupid brain, daring it to keep going down that road. I'd smash us into a building, and that would be the end of all of our troubles. 

   The sky was clear and blue, a direct affront to my black mood, and I searched my memories for the directions that Daryl had barked at me when I drove him to the Hilltop just two weeks before. All of the roads in the area looked eerily similar, and it wasn't until I passed the Good Guy gun shop that I knew how close I was. 

   From there, it was just a few turns to the gravel road that led to Barrington House, and I unrolled all of the windows, the stagnant air clearing out of my confined space. My knife was sitting on my lap as the top of the house came into view, sending my heart into a tap dance in my chest. I'd had no way of warning them I was coming, despite my earlier pledge to Rick to get in touch, and I slowed my pace significantly as I saw a group of men skitter along the wall with spears poised towards me.

   Keeping a healthy distance, I put the car into park, awkwardly climbing out as I tried to keep my hands in view. The only man I recognized was Cal, the guy who'd warned us of the Saviors arrival on the day I was taken, and he gave me a scrutinizing look.

   "Are Maggie and Jesus here?" I called out as he glanced over his shoulder. 

   "Stay there," he yelled back after a brief pause. Nodding that I understood, I backed up to the hood of the car, resting my backside against it while he climbed down out of sight. I was still under surveillance with five spears trained at my head, and I did my best to seem relaxed, despite the fact that any one of them could kill me with one throw. 

   It was at least ten minutes later when Cal reappeared, telling me to drive in and park immediately. When the gates rolled aside, I saw that Maggie, Jesus, and Sasha were all standing together, hands on hips like some sort of posse. I gave them a halfhearted wave as I drifted by, cutting the engine when I reached the bare dirt along the inside of the fence.

   Jesus was at my door before I could turn, and he opened it for me, extending a hand to welcome me, though his expression was cautious. 

   "This is unexpected," he said in a guarded voice, and I shrugged, handing him my backpack so that he could check for himself that I was only carrying my knife for protection.

   One cursory examination later, he guided me towards the house with Sasha and Maggie flanking me. None of us spoke until we were inside the house, away from the curious stares of the Hilltop people.

   Gregory's door was closed, and I shifted from foot to foot as Jesus went to sit down on the steps. 

   "Do you have any way of getting in touch with Rick?" I asked, setting down my bag. 

   "Not unless we drive over there," Maggie said, looking to Jesus. "Why?"

   "Because-"

   Gregory's door swung open, and he headed straight for me, buttoning up his coat along the way, a look of irritation crossing his face. 

   "Oh, no," he protested as Sasha rolled her eyes. "You can't be here. Not again."

   "I'm not here to talk to you," I snapped, losing my patience. I was tired, emotional, and in no mood for this guy. "Do you have somewhere else we can go?"

   Sasha gestured to me to follow her, and we left Gregory standing there as he continued to bluster about how the Hilltop was not a pit stop for every wayward traveler. At that point, I wasn't sure who was worse, him or Negan. 

   As soon as his name entered my thoughts, I got a sick feeling in my stomach, and I swallowed hard, feeling my throat close up. Even just thinking his name was affecting me, and I wanted to hit something, make anything in this world feel the pain that I felt.

   "Are you okay?" Jesus asked me, giving me a sidelong glance. "You don't look so good."

   "That's what I'm here to talk about."

    We headed for the trailers, filing into one that looked much more lived in than the one I stayed in, and I stopped in my tracks when I saw that Daryl was sitting at the table, cleaning a crossbow. I'd forgotten that he was here for some reason, and he seemed just as shocked to see me. His hand balled into a fist, making his knuckles turn white, his eyes narrowing as he looked me up and down. 

   "What're ya doin' here?" 

   It sounded gruff and accusatory, and I bristled automatically. This jerk had ruined my life, and now he had the nerve to give me attitude. _Well, not today, Satan_.

   "I'm here to help you start a war with Negan, a-hole."


	44. Fall on Your Knees

   Daryl shot out of his seat like a gun went off, and he began to pace in the small trailer, weaving in and out of the rest of us. 

   "You're gonna help us kill Negan?" 

   "What? No," I protested, holding up my hands. "I'm talking about a bloodless coup."

   "Huh?"

   Maggie got in his way, stopping his endless roaming, pointing to the chair without a word. 

   "Listen, I know things," I said, pulling out one of the chairs and sitting down heavily. "I have knowledge of the supplies that the Sanctuary has, and there's a way to do this so no one has to die."

   "Well, that asshole deserves to die for what he's done," Sasha said roughly as she leaned against the door. "He's a murderer."

   "So are you," I snapped back, feeling pulled in different directions. "You snuck in and slit throats in the dead of night. I don't want to go through this again. Can you just get me to Rick? He's the leader that makes most of the decisions, right?"

   The three of them seemed to hold a silent conversation as I rubbed my stomach, realizing at that moment that I hadn't eaten since the night before. Jesus went over to the small kitchenette and found a jar of peanut butter, spreading it on a small, hard roll, handing to me without a word. While the rest of them watched, I shoved it almost entirely into my mouth, the sticky material gluing my teeth together until I managed to swallow it down, grunting a none too polite thanks. 

   "I'll take her," Jesus finally offered, stepping up. "None of you can be seen at Alexandria, and I can sneak her in, just in case."

   "I'm goin', too," Daryl said, getting up to load his supplies in a sack that he pulled from under the couch. 

   "No."

   He glared at me, but I wasn't going to budge on this. It would be bad enough if Negan found me there, but for him to be faced with the man that 'kidnapped' me, it could send him into a murderous rage, and I didn't want Daryl to get hurt, oddly enough. 

   "Let me talk to Rick, see if he'll agree to work with me," I tried again, fixing my face so that it didn't look as accusing. 

   "Marie?"

   Maggie was looking at me strangely, like she could see my true motivations, and I tried to avoid her gaze for as long as possible. 

   "Can I talk to you alone?"

   Nodding silently, I followed her out of the trailer to the corner of the yard. She motioned for me to have a seat on one of the tree stumps that had been fashioned into a chair, perching on the adjacent one. 

   There was a bustle of activity here, with men and women working on the gardens, doing metal work, and repairing some of the trailers. All of them seemed to work in unison, with little to no conversation. It was strangely relaxing, and also enough to make me feel lower than I already felt. Guilt over not acknowledging what was really happening at these people's expense earlier made me feel like a fraud, all because I loved Negan. I hadn't been blinded by him, it was more like overlooking what wasn't occurring in front of my eyes. 

   But there was also the reality that I was only one person, and not one strong enough to break the wheel, or free the people that were trampled underneath it. It would have to be a group of people that worked together to rise up and change their own destiny. I was nothing more than a tool that could possibly help them. 

   "I don't know why, but I feel like, in another life, we could've been friends," Maggie said softly, looking out over the horizon, and I began to tear up. "You remind me a lot of my sister. She was a very gentle soul, but had strengths that she was only just beginning to find when she died."

   "I'm sorry," I choked out, wiping at my face. "'Who is going to harm you if you are eager to do good?'"

   "The book of Peter," she murmured as I gave her a surprised look. "You're not the only one to read the Bible. My father was a very godly man."

   "It can be a source of comfort, and also sadness for me," I admitted, "seeing as I'm not living the life I thought I was meant for."

   "I don't think any of us are," Maggie argued lightly as one of the men in the community led a small goat past us to a pen. "I never thought I'd be raising a child without Glenn. He was a good man, one that could've made a difference in this world, and now he's gone. But, I'm still here, and I'm going to make sure that his death wasn't in vain."

   "By killing Negan? Because that isn't going to bring your husband back, and it will only leave you empty. Just like him killing your people didn't do anything to change what happened at the outpost."

   "No, by making sure that the world is better off without Negan in it. He's a cancer, a disease, and you have to rid the world of the disease so that everything else can flourish," she said, shifting on her perch so that she was facing me. "The problem is, you love him, don't you? You're not just some random worker there."

   Darn it all to hell. 

   "Is it that obvious?"

   "To me," Maggie smiled, though her eyes were steely. "I can't even pretend to understand why you'd care about someone so devoid of morals, but I'm guessing there must be something there that you've seen that the rest of the world hasn't. I mean, Ava Braun must've liked something about Adolf Hitler."

   Too shocked to respond, my mouth dropped open, and she apologized immediately. "That was a horrible analogy. I'm sorry."

   "Almost everyone has the capability to be good and bad," I said quickly, feeling defensive of both her characterization and the implications. "Negan is a charismatic, smart man who's seen and done things that have changed him. He wasn't a murderer or a sadist before the world fell apart. Circumstances have made him who he is now. That said, I don't excuse the things he's done. But to write him off as a human being is wrong. I'm in agreement that he should no longer lead the Saviors, for everyone's betterment. But I cannot and will not ever agree that he should die, and if you guys can't abide by that, then I don't need to be here."

   She didn't say anything, just tilted her head as she studied me, nodding stiffly after a moment. What she hoped to accomplish by pulling me aside, I don't know, other than confirming that I loved him. The sick feeling in my stomach and the knowledge that I was in way over my head pushed me upright, and I went back to the trailer to gather my things. 

   Jesus was waiting for me with a set of keys in his hand.

   "We can just take my car," I said, pointing to the one I arrived in. 

   "I don't think that would be a good idea. They're probably on the lookout for you, or they will be if you snuck out."

   Oh, right. I really wasn't any good at this, and with a shrug, I let him guide me to a pretty old jalopy that had seen better days. There was a sense of relief mixed in with trepidation as we left the Hilltop behind, Daryl glaring the entire way until the gate closed, shutting him away from our retreat. 

   The roll wasn't sitting well in my stomach, a hard rock that seemed to move around with every bump we took, and I lowered the window to get some fresh air, hoping that it would help with my nerves. It didn't.

   I have to say, of all the people I'd traveled with, Jesus was by far the most easygoing, and he kept to himself while we drove, leaving me to my thoughts, allowing me to second guess everything I'd done since I woke up. Coulda, woulda, shoulda, I thought darkly as I stared out towards the road. I could've asked Negan about the panties. I should've stood up for myself. But I would've faltered, for sure. 

   Besides, it was too late to go back now, and I knew in my heart that there was no way to just forget everything I'd seen and learned in the past few weeks. Hiding in the Sanctuary wasn't the way I wanted to live, not when I'd seen the faces of those whose backs I was unknowingly stepping on to achieve the life I had there. There had to be a way for everyone to work together, and if Negan had to be removed from power, then so be it. 

   The road opened up, and Jesus pressed on the gas so that we could make it by sundown, and the air was filled with both a refreshing breeze and a colorful chorus of locusts, singing back and forth to each other. Since there were no dead people around, it almost felt like the world was still intact, unmarred by the exploits of man, and I idly wondered if this was nature's way of getting rid of humans, a viral rebellion against all we'd done to this planet. 

   "You okay there?" Jesus asked, making me blink. 

   "Huh? Oh, yeah," I said, stretching my legs out as I tried to do the same with my arms, almost hitting him in the head. "Just pondering the mysteries of life."

   He chuckled as he twisted his shoulders back and forth, offering me a bottle of water that had been sitting on the seat. 

   "Apparently, we're all infected already," me mentioned casually, like he was commenting on the weather.

   "What?" 

   "Rick and his group were at the CDC in Atlanta before they came to Alexandria, and one of the scientists there told them. Haven't you seen anyone come back that wasn't bitten?"

   I had, though that fact had never even occurred to me as I nodded, and I mentioned as much, too traumatized by the actual death to even register that she'd come back from suicide. 

   "Well, that's depressing," I said, thumping the window with my knuckles. "Why are we even bothering at all if we're all going to turn into flesh-eating monsters?"

   "The future is unwritten," Jesus mused as he turned right onto the road that led to Alexandria. "You never know what it brings. Maybe a cure. Maybe this is a litmus test for humans, to see if we're worthy of carrying on."

   "Maybe."

   My fear came roaring back as Alexandria loomed up ahead of us, Rick in particular. He had every right to not listen to me, and go ahead with his killing plan. And as soon as I confessed who I was, he could very well use me to get back at Negan. I was taking a chance, but someone had to. Someone had to start putting their trust in the other side, or who knows what was going to happen. 

   Aaron was up on the wall, and when Jesus stuck out a gloved hand to wave to him, he called down for someone to open the gate. It just so happened to be Rosita, the sour-faced woman that I'd met at the Hilltop, and she gave me a formidable look as she saw that I was with Jesus, jerking her thumb for us to park near the wall. 

   Hands on hips, she strode over to my side, waiting for me to exit before asking me what I was doing there.

   "I'm here to talk to Rick," I informed her, looking past her to Father Gabriel who was standing by the gate keeping watch. He gave me a gentle smile, and I walked towards him with a matching expression. 

   "It's good to see you, Marie," he told me as I shook his hand. 

   "You too, Father," I said with a pang of nostalgia. It was bittersweet to address another man by those words, and I missed Father Thomas so much in that moment. "Is Rick here?"

   "He went out on a run two days ago, but he and Michonne should be back at any time."

   I was disappointed, like I'd gotten to Disney World only to find out that it was closed for the day, and I felt my shoulders slump. He offered to walk me to the church, and I took him by the elbow, chatting superficially as we made our way to the one place that I felt the most comfortable at in this town. It was there, as pretty and as plain as ever, and he left me to pray by myself for a while. 

   In what was becoming a bad pattern, I asked God for forgiveness for my multitude of sins, speaking softly even though I was alone. I didn't expect absolution, but I sought it, hoping that I was on the right path to a spiritual cleansing. Though I didn't regret my relationship with Negan, I did harbor a deep sadness about the way it had ended, and the consequences for what I felt. No matter what happened between us, he wasn't just the man in black. He was a flawed, messed up man, whose redemption was out of my hands, not that it had ever been in them, no matter what Father Thomas said on his deathbed. His actions were his own, and his reckoning was as well. 

   I tried not to color my view of him by my own personal hurt, and see him as the man everyone else did. A brutal, overbearing leader who cared more about his own place in the world than that of his fellow man. A man who took the best traits of his personality and made them work for less than the greater good. And then I thought about myself, and my failings as a Christian. 

   Someone who led herself astray without anyone's help, valuing my own personal desires over that which I swore to eschew in my life, apocalypse or not. It wasn't too late for either of us, I hoped. 

   I prayed until my knees hurt, getting to my feet and limping outside where Father Gabriel was patiently waiting to escort me to his house. A study in contradictions, he still wore his collar, but carried his gun, and I found myself studying him as we walked. 

   "Something on your mind?" he asked, making my cheeks turn pink. 

   "Uh, I was wondering if I could ask you something?"

   "Of course."

   "Would you..." I hemmed, "would you be able to hear my confession as a priest, and not as a member of Rick's group?"

   "You mean, will it stay between us?" he gave me a knowing look, and I nodded my head. "Yes, I can do that."

   "Thank you."

   The unburdening of my soul was going to have to wait, because Rick was heading directly for us, his gun at his hip and his fingers brushing it as Michonne trailed behind him. 

   "What are you doing here?" he asked, not bothering with a greeting. 

   "I need to speak with you. Alone," I added, giving Michonne a cursory look. The woman intimidated me to no end, and what I had to say was going to be hard enough, not needing an audience. 

   "Come on," he sighed, kissing the other woman on the cheek before directing me towards his house. Father Gabriel and Michonne huddled together immediately, and my back burned as I studied the man walking in front of me. His gait was slow but assured, and several of his people gave me wary looks, no doubt remembering the misery visited on them when the Saviors came looking for Daryl and me.

   "I'm assuming this isn't a social call," he said over his shoulder, and I hustled to catch up with him. 

   "It's not, and I want you to hear me out."

   A small smile formed on his face as he gave me a quick look.

   "You sound a lot like my son when he's done something he knows damn well he shouldn't have."

   I had no response for that.

   The inside of his house was surprisingly cool, and the living room was cluttered with toddler toys. I'd forgotten that he'd had a daughter until I tripped over a block, sending me stumbling to my knees. Rick apologized, helping me to my feet, my pride more bruised than anything on my body, and I trudged into the kitchen, sitting down with my hands laid out on the table. 

   He sat in the chair opposite me, taking the gun from his hip and setting it off to the side.

   "Did you have a chance to talk to Negan?"

   "No."

   He let out a frustrated sound, running his hand along his stubbled jaw, and I swallowed heavily. 

   "But I'm here to help, if you can agree to my conditions."

   Rick's face became stony, the sort of unreadable mask that must have served him well as a cop, and I shifted uneasily, feeling like I was suddenly in an interrogation room, ready to confess to petty thievery or something. 

   "What kind of conditions?" he asked, his voice steady and even.

   "I'll help you, but I don't want Negan killed. Or Simon. Anyone, really."

   "Out of the question," he said immediately, slamming his hands down on the table, making me jump. "That son of a bitch has-"

   "Not again," I screeched, stopping him in his tracks. "Enough with the 'he killed' crap. So did you. You started this."

   "To protect the people I care about."

   "Well, I have people that I care about, too," I retorted, meeting his gaze. "If you do this, if you start something with him, I can guarantee that you'll lose. You can't do this without me, and I'm not saying that to be a jerk. I'm not just some nameless grunt there."

   He picked up on that immediately, his eyes narrowing as he leaned forward, giving me full attention. 

   "You told me your word was all you had, and I'm asking for it again. There's a way you can do this without bloodshed, and I can help."

   "How?"

   I took a deep, steadying breath as he seemed to hold his, and I jumped in with both feet. "I did the books for Negan. I know every outpost, every community he takes from and every item that's logged in those books."

   His mouth tightened as my words registered, leaning back slightly. 

   "We can cut off his outposts, therein cutting off his supplies, and surround the Sanctuary. Without anything coming in or going out, he'll have to surrender."

   Rick shook his head slowly, giving me a look that was so pitying that I felt my stomach clench. I knew I was going to throw up again, and I clapped my hand over my mouth. He stood up abruptly, the chair clattering to the floor as he took me by the elbow, steering me down the hall to the bathroom.

   Thankfully, he stood outside as I got sick, expelling a large stream of bile into the toilet, breaking out into a sweat. As I sat slumped over on the floor, a hand poked through the door, offering me a cool washcloth, and I took it shakily, wiping my mouth before running it over my forehead. 

   When I was sure I wasn't going to pass out, I came back out to find him sitting back at the table with two glasses of water. The inside of my mouth was dry, and I sucked it down greedily, murmuring an embarrassed thanks. 

   "I grapple with my decisions on a daily basis," I mumbled, keeping my eyes lowered, tears clinging to my lashes. "But I can't have any blood on my hands. Yours or his. This can be done without taking lives. The question is, do you want it to?"

   Rick didn't say anything for a long time. His eyes were unfocused, lost in thought as I ran my finger around the rim of the glass, tempering my expectations. If worse came to worse, the best I could do was just leave. Find Sherry and Dwight and try to rebuild my life. 

   "We've spent the last few days out looking for weapons to defend ourselves," he finally said, glancing at his gun as if to confirm that it was still there. "We have more than enough to put this whole conflict into play, but it means putting ourselves in danger."

   "And I'm asking you to try," I replied, trying to smile. "I'll give you all the information I have, and if you can get the Hilltop to join you, I know of a few other small communities that might be able to help. With enough people, the ants can defeat the grasshopper."

   The corner of his mouth lifted, and he let out a little huff. 

   "I'll talk to my people, and if they agree, we'll get to work."

   The sense of relief I felt at that moment was enough to knock me off of the chair, and I gave him the biggest smile in my arsenal. He left me sitting there with the water while he went off to round up his people to discuss my idea with them, and I took the opportunity to look around, trying to get a sense of the man I'd just offered to help. 

   There were a few pictures scattered around the bottom level of his house, mostly of his kids. One with Carl before he lost his eye, holding his sister when she was a baby. Another of him after, with an older little girl who was looking up at him with a toothy smile. Still another that was taken from a distance with Carl and Michonne, their heads tilted towards each other and her hand on his shoulder. The love between them was clear, and I felt a pang of jealousy at the family they'd created together. People who'd been brought together by tragedy, coming out of it with an untenable bond that no one could ever come between. 

   It was while I was wandering around the living room, stepping over blocks and toys that I suddenly, overwhelmingly realized that I might not just be sick from nerves. 

   I couldn't remember the last time I had a period.


	45. Blood is the Life

  
   My breakdown was hovering just out of my reach, dancing around me like an invisible ghost as the enormity of my predicament washed over me time and again. From Rick having to repeat himself several times to Father Gabriel asking me if I was all right, I felt like I was walking through soup, everything muddled and slow. 

   I'd engaged in premarital sex, and I was reaping the repercussions, all while my world fell apart. 

   Grudgingly, Rick and the Alexandrians had agreed to try to defeat Negan without bloodshed, and now it was on me to produce the goods, so to speak. I'd spent several hours making a meticulous map of every outpost I knew about, along with the communities that Negan took from, all the while wanting to run away from the situation. 

   My notes that I'd brought with me came in handy, and I'd accompanied Rick on his trek to the Kingdom to meet with King Ezekiel, to convince him to join the fight. I have to admit that my first impression of the man was one of disbelief, with his ridiculous speeches and grandiose way of talking, but after spending a bit of time with him, he revealed himself to be a very calm and intelligent man. He cared about the safety and welfare of his people, and it was evident in the fact that he weighed his participation in the fight very carefully.

   When I'd explained my idea to him, he studied me thoughtfully for a while, making me look to Rick for help, but he just gave me a wide-eyed stare. 

   "You intrigue me, my dear," he announced, making my face burn in response. "You seem to have put yourself at risk to provide this information, yet you obviously care about the people at the Sanctuary."

   "Of course I do. They deserve a chance, just like everyone else. Not every fight has to end in death."

   "And yet, it often does," he lamented, shaking the chain that tethered his very terrifying tiger to him. It let out a dull roar, sending me hiding behind Rick's back, and the king let out a chuckle. "Trust me, girl, if she wanted to harm you, no chain would stop her."

   I don't know if that was supposed to make me feel better, but I kept my spot behind the Alexandrian leader, my hand going unconsciously to my stomach. Unable to take a pregnancy test, I still wasn't sure if I was in fact with child, but my chances weren't looking good. After a preliminary mind search, I'd been able to pinpoint my last period to over a month and a half before, and I'd forced my way into Father Gabriel's house to beg for confession, as it was my only way to earn forgiveness. 

   To say he was shocked was an understatement, but he'd generously issued his blessing, while gifting me with a plethora of prayers to recite, patting my shoulder tenderly when I'd started crying. I was a wanton, heathen, unwed woman, and I was now going to have the child of a man I loved but hated. But, I supposed, there were far worse sins out there that I could've committed, and he didn't ask me why I felt the need to seek absolution at that moment. 

   Now, two days later, we were at our third settlement, trying to find allies, and we were batting two-for-three, which Rick told me was a decent score. The Hilltop was all in, despite Gregory's refusal to take part. Maggie, Jesus, and Sasha had taken it upon themselves to speak to the other residents, who had overwhelmingly agreed to fight for their freedom. 

   Honeywell was also in, as I took Rick there to meet Stellan, the leader of the mini-factory. He obviously wasn't thrilled to see me again until I explained why I was there. He'd allowed us inside his compound, where I found out that he'd been taking care of a small group of people, which included a lot of children, all of whom were underfed and in desperate need of more. More love, more places to feel safe, and just more supplies in general. 

   It was a tough pill for me to swallow, seeing how many fellow human beings were suffering, and I set aside my own feelings about Negan to focus on what was right. If I was, in fact, carrying a child, I would want no less for him or her. A place that they could feel secure, not wondering where their next meal would come from or if someone was going to show up to take it all away. 

   The large man that guarded the king stepped forward after a glance from Ezekiel, sweeping his arm to the right.

   "The king wishes you to stay the night while he considers your proposal. You will meet again in the morning."

   Rick tensed up in front of me, and Michonne put a steadying hand on his shoulder, speaking up for the rest of us.

   "Thank you."

   The tiger let out another roar, effectively ending our audience with him, and I followed behind the rest of the people who'd come along, including Daryl. I had no say so in whether or not he left the Hilltop, and Rick didn't seem happy about it, but he didn't stop him. 

   The Kingdom was pretty much just a school campus, but they seemed to be the most prosperous of any community that I'd ever seen. Nearly half of the property was covered in gardens, and each of the buildings had been converted into living areas. I did know that Negan had never set foot inside, an agreement he'd made with Ezekiel in exchange for no issues with pickups. As a result, none of the people there knew exactly how far-ranging and powerful the Saviors were. They only knew that they were supplying another settlement. 

   "These people are our best hope," Rick said quietly to Michonne as we followed the big guy, Jerry towards the building to the back of the property. "They're strong, well-fed and trained in combat. Our chances increase tenfold if they agree."

   The two of them held hands, an attractive couple if ever I've seen, and my lips trembled with emotion as I thought for the thousandth time about Negan. It had been a few days since I'd left, and I could still smell him, still feel his lips on my neck and his hands on my hips. He was the only man I'd ever loved, and probably ever would, and he had no idea that I was pregnant with his child. 

   I was shown to my room, and once the door closed behind me, I allowed myself a good cry, curled up on the little bed I'd been given, staring at the wall as I felt my stomach roil. I hadn't thrown up all day, but I'd had pretty bad indigestion, doing my best to hide it from everyone else. So far, no one had suspected my 'delicate' condition, and I was going to do everything in my power to keep it secret from them, blindly believing that I could just leave after Negan surrendered, and go to Sherry. But first, I needed to get actual confirmation that I was pregnant, and I planned to ask the Hilltop doctor, deciding to go back with them instead of Rick. 

   The next morning, I was bleary-eyed as I waited outside while Rick and Ezekiel talked. Daryl and everyone else had accompanied them inside the auditorium to hear the verdict, and I sat in the sun with my eyes closed, enjoying a rare moment of feeling good. Tired, but good. There was a ruffling beside me, and I opened one eye to see it was Maggie, munching on a freshly picked carrot. My mouth started to water immediately, and with a smirk, she produced another one from behind her back, still with the little green tail attached. 

   It was by far the best carrot I'd ever tasted, and I bit into it with a crunch, letting out a little moan. Maggie laughed heartily as she took her own bite, talking with a mouth full. 

   "Cravings are the worst, right?"

   "Yeah," I said without thinking, my eyes widening as she gave me a knowing look. "Please don't say anything," I pleaded as she pulled her fingers along the carrot greens, plucking off a few leaves and rolling them between her thumb and forefinger. 

   "I won't," she promised as I fought the urge to run. "It's not my place to say anything. But it's Negan's, isn't it?"

   I didn't answer. I couldn't. Because saying it out loud made it true, and it made me the woman who was working against the man I loved. 

   "No one knows here," I finally manged to say. "I'd like to keep it that way because it does no good and it only reminds me of what I had and I gave up. Besides, I don't have the same support system that you do."

   "Yes, you do. You have us. We'd never turn our backs on you."

   It was touching, but I couldn't stay with them when all was said and done. They weren't my family, the people that cared about me. Sherry was out there somewhere waiting for me, and Negan wasn't an option at this point. We were on opposite sides now.

   I gave her a thankful smile, and we sat amid the bustle of the Kingdom, waiting for a verdict. By the look on Rick's face when he came out, it was good news, because he was smiling widely, a nice look for the handsome man. Daryl was still glaring, and I was starting to think that it was the only expression that he had. 

   "I ain't here," he grumbled, flicking some strands of hair out of his eyes when Maggie and I joined the ecstatic group. 

   "You're still on the hit list," Rick reminded him, "and you need to train these people. They've never attempted anything like this, and we need to make sure they're able to keep up. It's going to involve multiple sites at one time, and we'll need to be able to trust that they know what they're doing. Jesus is going to go out and hunt down radios so that we can keep in contact."

   It took several more minutes to convince the gruff man to stay put, and the rest of us split off to go our respective ways. There was an air of optimism amongst the group, save me, since we were that much closer to putting the plan into action. Even Maggie seemed hopeful, and she let me sit up front with Jesus, her and Sasha engaging in a conversation that never let up.

   While Jesus drove, I let my thoughts wander, linking my hands together to keep from touching my stomach, lest he notice it, and when we arrived at the Hilltop, Maggie surreptitiously took ahold of my hand, taking me to a trailer with a red sign that marked it as the medical building. Rapping lightly with her knuckles, she waited for a muted call to come in, and we were greeted by a nice-looking man with sandy brown hair who introduced himself as Dr. Carson, making me do a double take.

   "You know my brother," he said kindly, aware that I was from the Sanctuary. "He's doing well, I hope?"

   "The last I saw of him, he was."

   "Well, how can I help you today?"

   I gave Maggie a panicked look, and she spoke for me. "Can she get a pregnancy test?"

   Dr. Carson, the _other_ Dr. Carson, gestured for me to go into the next room, which was set up as an examining area, and I sat down on the wooden chair that sat alongside the desk. Maggie said she'd wait for me outside, and the pleasant man shut the door, joining me at the desk. 

   "Okay, first things first," he said, smiling to put me at ease. "You're sexually active, obviously. Do you normally use protection?"

   My cheeks started to heat up, and I wanted to die right then and there, but I nodded my head. 

   "You don't need to be embarrassed, I'm not here to judge," he told me. "Any times without a condom?"

   "A few."

   "And when was your last period?"

   "Um, about six weeks ago. They're normally pretty regular, but I have been under stress," I admitted, trying to will myself into some other result. 

   "Of course."

   Like any other doctor I'd encountered, he sounded sympathetic but businesslike, and he rummaged around in the cabinet next to his desk, producing a pregnancy test.

   "There's a bathroom right outside the door. Why don't you go take this if you can and we'll see where we are?"

   My upset stomach and I took the test, fumbling with the door as I went in to take the most important test of my life, and I watched the liquid spread across the panel, my heart plummeting when I saw two pink lines forming, confirming what I'd already known in my heart to be true. I was pregnant. 

   After splashing my cheeks, I carried the test gingerly in my hands, setting it down on the desk, letting the doctor see it, and he clapped his hands together with a smile. 

   "Congratulations," he said, his smile dropping when he saw the look on my face. "I take it that wasn't the result you were hoping for."

   "I'm not exactly in the best place to be raising a child."

   "Granted, the current predicament we're all in isn't optimal," he began, but I cut him off.

   "I'm not just talking about the dead people trying to eat us. The father and I aren't together, and we never will be again. I'm alone."

   Dr. Carson leaned forward, resting a hand on my knee gently. 

   "I'm sorry, miss."

   "Marie."

   "I'm sorry, Marie," he said again. "But if you've got friends, you'll have support, and I'll be around for anything you need. We'll get you set up with some vitamins and regular checkups, and we're going to do a quick ultrasound so that I can try to determine how far along you are."

   "Isn't it too early?" I asked, thinking back to my remedial health and women's knowledge.

   "Six weeks is about the earliest that you can detect a heartbeat, so we'll give it a try."

   Ten minutes later, I had my legs in the air and a probe in my privates, the machine whirring as I held my breath, the hard plastic violating my personal area, very uncomfortably. The screen that Dr. Carson was watching was a blur of black and white, a moving picture that made no sense to me until he pointed out a tiny white beans-shaped white spot at the bottom of the black circle that was my uterus. 

   "There's the baby," he said, pointing to the flickering blob, "and we have a heartbeat."

   I didn't have words to describe the emotions I was experiencing at that moment, as they ran the gamut between wonder and unfettered terror. Inside me was another living human being, a mixture of myself and Negan, and I was entirely responsible for it. 

   Dr. Carson took measurements, informing me that I was six weeks and five days along, pronouncing the baby healthy, and he left me with a picture and some time to myself to wrap my head around the instantaneous change in my world. I wanted to drive myself back to the Sanctuary and let Negan handle everything. I wanted him to tell me that it was going to be okay, that he'd never cheated, and that he was going to stop taking from other communities.

   While I wished for things that were never going to happen, I also imagined him taking me away, finding us a little cottage to live in where we could raise this child without anyone fighting, or threatening, wanting to wage war and battle. A serene area where I could plant my little garden and teach a baby to walk, and play. To run through the grass where we'd both be waiting to catch him if he fell.

   I had one leg in my pants when I heard a scream, and I rushed awkwardly to the window, my heart dropping to my feet when I saw familiar trucks rolling through the gates.  
Maggie came bursting into the room as I pulled my jeans on, buttoning them with shaking fingers.

   "We gotta go!"

   She nearly wrenched my arm from its socket as we left through the back door, which faced away from the front entrance. Over to a pile of wood, we ran, and she lifted it up to reveal a secret exit, and I climbed down into the tunnel with her almost falling on top of me, using the muzzle of her gun to shut the door. 

   Both of us were panting as we held hands, listening to the cries of the people we'd left behind, and a single loud gunshot.


	46. Hail, the Word of Negan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this chapter and the next are Negan POVs, which I am normally loathe to do, since I struggle to write from his perspective, but y'all wanted to know his reaction to Marie's leaving him. Without further ado, I give you part one.  
> (no flaming, please, since I already admitted that this might suck)

 

   Simon handed me the radio as I propped my boot up on the dashboard, pressing down the button with a grin.

   "Listen up, newbies," I said into the speaker, ignoring the chuckle that came from my right-hand man. "Honeywell is our most docile fucking community, and you diaper-wearing fucks are here to impress me today. Get in, get the fuck out, and get what I asked, and you'll all be rewarded when we get home. Now, I'll do my big, awesome speech to get the ball rolling, and then I want everyone in teams of two to gather supplies so we can move on to the land of make-believe. I want to be home by mid-afternoon at the latest, so don't fucking disappoint me."

   Tossing the radio onto the seat, I spread my leg, letting the humid air cool my sack, leaning back with a grumble. Fucking runs sucked, and they kept me away from home, where I could keep an eye on my people, some of whom were mighty fucking unruly lately.

   I'd been preoccupied, and it was showing in the blatant disrespect I'd seen when the lower caste thought that I wasn't watching. And few things tickled my balls more than shutting that shit down with only a look. When I had to do more, it sent a ripple through the community, and I doled out punishment that I felt fit the crime.

   Dwight, that little cockroach knew it, and so did every other man and woman who'd tasted the iron, or lost a finger. They ignored the rules, ones I'd put in place to restore order, and I was the one to carry out the sentence. Sometimes I enjoyed it, sure, and sometimes the smell of burning flesh or spurting blood kept me up at night. Not because I thought it was wrong, but because I sometimes worried about retaliation.

   You could only rule so much by fear. The rest had to be with respect, and I'd be goddamned if these people that I'd put on my back and pulled through some rough shit weren't going to respect me. No, they were going to do things my way, because it was my way that kept these sorry sacks of shits from imploding when I first took over.

   "We're here," Simon muttered, forcing me back to attention. Like putting on a costume, I fixed my best smile on my face, seeing that lanky blonde beanpole standing at the entrance to Honeywell, looking like someone just shot his dog.

   "Well, good fucking morning to you fine people," I bellowed as I got out, shutting the door with a lazy flick of my wrist, putting my girl over my shoulder, strutting towards the row of cars that surrounded the factory.

   Stellan was waiting patiently with his arms behind his back, and he inclined his head as a show of respect. We were off to a fine start, and I felt Simon ease up behind me as I closed the distance between the two of us.

   "You're looking...pale this morning," I told him with a grin as his face hardened momentarily. "Extra Scandinavian and shit."

   "Nice to see you, Negan," he lied, stepping off to the side to show the pile of supplies he'd procured for me. Brushing his chest with my arm, I walked over to inspect the boxes, each one labeled in faded magic marker.

   "Where are the solar panels I asked for?"

   "We're still working on getting them," Stellan said, lifting his arms as a way of explanation, but I let out a disappointed sigh, gripping my Lucille tighter, and he shut up.

   "So let me get this straight," I summarized, turning to face him. "I waste my gas coming here for solar panels, and you tell me that you don't have them. Am I correct?"

   "Yes," he said after a minute's hesitation. "We're trying to get the deadies cleared around the building, but they just keep coming."

   "That's not my fucking problem," I shouted, feeling the urge to strike this lanky motherfucker in the kneecap. "I do my fucking job. I keep your depressing, shitty area clear of walkers. Do yours and get me my shit when I ask for it."

   He got so pale that I thought he was going to pass out, and he nodded faintly. "We'll have them by the next pickup, I swear."

   Just like that, the angry, buzzing devil on my shoulder telling me to beat him evaporated, and I dropped Lucille down against my leg, rubbing her handle with my thumb.

   "And for my trouble...?"

   Stellan's face blanched, and he turned towards his second, an annoying little prick named Gene, or Geno. "Get the box of vegetables."

   The greasy man turned his eyes towards me, narrowing them in anger, and I was in front of him in a flash, holding him by the collar.

   "You know, I really hate when people give me stink-eye. I hate it from sixteen-year-old one-eyed little shits, and I really don't like it from grown-ass men."

   Gene/Geno didn't back down, and I got a little thrill of excitement in my belly at the challenge. See, what he didn't understand, what none of the people that stood up to me didn't at first is that I wasn't going to strike back at them. That was too easy. No, what I liked to do was add a heaping spoonful of guilt to their attempts to be the big man on campus. It taught them their place, and that there was always a punishment.

   "You may think that you're tough enough to take me on, boy, but what about your most favorite person in the world? Are they going to be able to withstand Lucille?" I asked in a quiet voice.

   Right on cue, the man's eyes flickered to the right, and I turned to see a wan-looking woman watching with wide, glassy eyes. No matter who they were, how they stood up to me, they always gave away their weakness, and I let him go with a push, sending him stumbling back.

   "Now, I don't like hurting women," I said to the crowd as I made my way towards the young lady who was now whimpering. I didn't like it, I fucking hated it, in fact, and I avoided it at all costs. "But I _will_ do it if I have to. And if you can't keep your people in line, Stellan, this little princess will have to take her fella's licks for him, to remind him that There. Are. Rules. And rule number fucking one is that you do not disrespect me. Ever!"

   Each word was louder than the rest until I was yelling at full volume, watching the defiance fade from Gene's face. The only blemish on my awesome display was the fact that the woman had green eyes, and she was looking at me in the exact same way that Marie had when we first met. It almost knocked me off-kilter, but I rebounded, swinging my bat towards Stellan.

   "Move out, fellas."

   My men set off in sets of two, picking up the boxes with ease as I cast my eyes around the crowd, looking for any other idiot that wanted to make a stand. But all I saw were downcast faces and subservience, luckily for them. With a good-natured wink to the green-eyed girl, I headed back to the truck, leaning against the door while I waited for my shit to be loaded up.

   Marie. My little Angel.

   Once upon a time, she thought I was a monster, too. A bully and an asshole. Hell, maybe she still did. She wasn't wrong. But she loved me anyway. She came back to me anyway, even though she's just a bit off, a little melancholy. Not even the sweet little ring I put on her finger seems to have helped. She only seemed happy for one night, and it faded away the next day.

   I know she thinks I did it as a joke, a way to make her happy, but I didn't. I gave it to her because I love her. I love her freckled nose, and her big, green eyes. I even love her intact little religious devotion and the fact that she prays for me. She argues with me and tries to get me to change, all because she loves me.

   I haven't had anyone give a shit about me like that since Lucille, and I fucked that up beyond repair.

   G _et it together, asshole_ , I tell myself as my men finish gathering up our supplies. No need to go down that road right now, not when we're having an okay day. In truth, I didn't expect Stellan to get the solar panels right away. I knew that the warehouse was surrounded. I didn't want to deal with it, and that's why I ordered him to do it. But he didn't have to know that. Better to let him worry about upsetting me. It'll keep him on his toes.

   "Next week," I reminded him with a level look, and he nodded slightly. With a tip of my bat to Gene, I hefted my frame back into the truck, turning up the air conditioner as soon as Simon started it up. "Onward and upward," I ordered him as he punched me in the shoulder.

   The living embodiment of a middle-school production of the knights of the round table was by far the easier of the two stops for once. Ezekiel was waiting when we arrived with his stupid band of men in their asinine armor. Prune-faced Richard was the only one that didn't keep his emotions off of his face, and a quick swing of Lucille that grazed his nose changed that real easy.

   I mean, what the fuck _was_ it with guys named Richard? I had that dopey fuck at the Kingdom, and Rick the prick at Alexandria. It's like everyone with that name had a giant stick up their asses, unable to understand that this shit wasn't personal. It's business.

   Speaking of Rick the prick, I was due to drop in unannounced on him. He hated it, and that's why I did it. The guy was too smart for his own good, and if he didn't start to truly submit soon, we were gonna be headed for a showdown. He was a fucking bitch to break, only crumbling under the threat of having to cut his son's arm off, and he really thought I'd make him do it. I wouldn't, but again, he never needed to know that.

   In truth, I admired that little one-eyed fuck. He had all of the attitude of his daddy, and none of the self-doubt. In fact, if Marie and I ever had kids, I'd hope my boy would turn out like that little shit. Balls almost as big as mine, I'd reckon.

   Speaking of, I'd have to try to work my charm on my Angel to see if she'd changed her mind about having kids. I wasn't getting any younger, and she couldn't hold me off forever. No matter how strong she thought she was, she'd give in to me. It wasn't my considerable confidence talking, it was just a fact. I took my time with her, and let her move at her own pace, and in time, she'd reach the same destination as me anyways. That's why we were perfect for each other.

   Marie helped temper my more...unsavory traits, and I watered down her more rigid ones. I mean, I respected her sweetness and devotion to all that was good and right with the world. I just knew it would be the death of her if she didn't start to see things the way they really were. She wasn't in the land of the living anymore, where people followed the law, and ate their vitamins and worried about the consequences of their actions. She had to adapt to how it was now, and I'd rather squash my own nuts with Lucille than see her vulnerable.

   Little by little, she was beginning to show more of that inner toughness that drew me to her ever since she came rushing around the corner of that rectory to help the old priest. When she'd had her little outburst, calling me a bully and the most horrible person she'd ever met, I know she thought she hurt my feelings. But I wanted her to think that. I wanted her to believe I was the worst that was out there, because if she did, she'd never want to leave and find out that there were way worse people than me.

   Men that used women like glory holes, passing them around from camp to camp. People that cannibalized the living, cooking them up like beef patties, and keeping them in pens.

   She was safe with me, my little Angel. I'd never hurt her like that, and she knew it, deep down, that with all my faults, I'd protect her from the monsters of the world.

   Tossing a plum up and down in my hand, I gave a low bow to the idiot king before climbing in the truck, patting the outside as Simon turned in a wide arc to drive us back home.

   "Do you think he talks in that ridiculous cadence when he jacks off?" I wondered aloud as Simon let out a full-throated laugh. "I mean do you think he shouts out to the Old Gods. Like, 'thyne release is imminent'?"

   "Well, that's great," Simon muttered with a grin. "Now that's all I'm ever going to see when I look at him."

   "Happy to help," I drawled, taking a bite of the fruit. Damn, it was juicy, the clear liquid running down between my fingers. I tossed the pit out of the window when I was done, licking the sticky remnants from my skin, turning myself on. Oh, yeah, my Angel better be waiting for me on the bed when I got there.

   But my dick went limp as soon as we pulled up and I saw the guards huddled together in a circle around that prick Charlie. He had blood running down the side of his face, and if he was lucky, that was the only place he'd be bleeding from today, because I knew, without a doubt, that it had something to do with Marie.

   And I was going to kill whatever motherfucker had hurt her.

 


	47. Hail, the Word of Negan (Book II)

 

   I was out of the truck before it even came to a stop, holding Lucille up high, near the barbed wire as I rounded on my men, making all of them take a step back, leaving Charlie standing alone.

   "What the fuck is going on?" I asked, pointing to the line of blood that was running down the side of his face.

   He gave me a wide-eyed dazed look, making him look even dumber than he usually did. Then came the babbling.

  "I wanted to protect her," he mumbled, making my blood start to boil. "She doesn't understand what it's like out there, and I wanted to make sure she was safe."

   "Who the fuck understands his concussion ramblings?" I cut him off, staring down my men. "And who was on guard duty this morning?"

   A shaggy-haired kid came forward, lifting up his hand.

   "I was, sir," he said in a faint voice.

   "Start fucking talking," I replied in a cold voice, working to control my growing anger. I didn't have time for this shit. I wanted to go see Marie, but I needed to know what I was walking into.

   "Marie drove up to the gates this morning and said she was on her way to meet you. To surprise you," he said hastily. "She wanted to surprise you."

   "So you let my girl out of the gates unattended, you stupid shitbrained moron?"

   "No sir," he insisted. "Charlie said he was supposed to go with her, keep an eye on her. He's one of your guys, so I let them. Then he comes stumbling back here a few minutes ago all banged up. We were just trying to find out what happened."

   Charlie was still looking spaced out, but I didn't give a flying fuck. I had to know what happened, and where my Angel was. He lurched forward as I snagged his shirt with Lucille, pulling him towards me.

   "I'm not going to ask you again. Where is Marie?"

   "She's gone," he stuttered, looking a little cross-eyed. "She hit me and I think I blacked out. When I woke up, I was laying on the side of the road."

   I shoved him back roughly in Simon's direction. "I don't believe a goddamned word coming out of your mouth, especially because you lied to that new fuck," gesturing to the moron that let them go. "Take him to see Carson, then put him in a cell."

   My heart was beating rapidly as I tried to figure out where to start. Why the fuck would she say she's coming to see me when she knows that I didn't want her out of the Sanctuary? And why in the everloving hell would she knock that curly-haired douchebag out?

   "Get back to work," I snarled, watching the rest of my men scatter, and I trailed behind Simon as Charlie looked back once, giving me a glazed expression. I'd deal with him later, that was for damned sure.

   As I moved through the factory, men and women dropped to their feet, but I barely saw them. I had one singular focus, and that was to find Marie.

   Her room was my first stop, and I jogged up the steps, knocking a red-headed guy into the wall. He shouted an apology after me, but I ignored him, taking the steps two at a time. When I opened the door, Phoebe was coming down from the roof, giggling as she carried a drink with her, spilling it on the floor. She saw me, and her happy appearance faltered. _What-the-fuck-ever._

   Not sparing her more than a glance, I flung open the door to Marie's room, but there was nothing out of place. No clothes missing, or otherwise. Breathing a tiny sigh of relief, I walked towards my own room, plotting out a search party. We'd have to go in all four directions, and I started to pair people up in my head as I opened the door.

   The first thing that caught my eye was a piece of paper that was propped up near the lamp. I was nearly bursting with the reassurance that it was no big deal since she'd left me a note as to what she was doing. That feeling lasted exactly as long as it took me to get two steps, when I spied a pair of red panties lying on the desk along with her ring and necklace.

   I'm not a man that's easily rattled, and it threw me off to see my hands trembling as I snatched the paper and held it almost to my nose, my stomach plummeting as I began to read it. I fucked up and she knew about it.

   " _I was gone for less than a week. How many of those days did you mourn me? How many of them did you spend having sex with someone else?"_

   Goddamnit, it wasn't like that. It was one time right before she came back, and it was because I was a fucking wreck.

    _"I was back for almost a week. How many of those days did you try to tell me what happened?"_

   None. Not one fucking day did I even think about telling Marie. Because I didn't want to hurt her. She never needed to know that she loved a piece of shit that used sex as a means to everything. Pleasure, pain. None of it mattered to me when I was in one of my states. It was a release from whatever good or bad feelings I was having.

  _"Every day I waited for you to tell me the truth. But you didn't. You brought me back into your bed, making me lay where you screwed someone else, and it never made you feel uncomfortable or remorseful."_

   I hated that she was right about that, and it honestly made me sick to my stomach at that moment. I didn't think about it because I didn't want to. I was just so fucking happy to have her home and safe with me that it never even registered in my brain.

  _"I never in my life thought that your touch would repulse me..."_

   I had to stop reading for a minute to try and get my bearings. The one woman I've loved since Lucille, the one I cared about the most couldn't even stand to have me touch her, not that I blamed her.

   Only alcohol could dull the hell I was currently in, thanks to my assholish tendencies, and I didn't even bother with a glass. Twisting the top off with my teeth, I spit it onto the floor, taking the largest drag I could, letting it burn the inside of my throat, the pain there only matched by the one in my head as I pictured my Angel, her face filled with loathing and disgust. And disappointment. That was the worst feeling of all. I'd hurt her and betrayed her, all because I can't express my feelings any better than a fucking toddler.

   My eyes were swimming when I attempted to look at the rest of the words, and a few stood out.

    _"Father Thomas was right..."_

_"I blame myself..."_

_"I release you from your vows..."_

_"Go back to your old life..."_

   Each consecutive sentence was a knife in my gut, and I deserved it. I deserved every hateful, judgemental thing that she said. All this time I thought that I was protecting her from the monsters of the world, and she was hurt by the worst one of all. She'd given me everything, heart, body, and soul, and I'd abused it.

   Like a lost puppy, I wandered around my room with the letter in one hand and the bottle in the other, downing large gulps of whiskey in an attempt to drown out another voice in my head, one I hadn't heard in years.

    _"Why wasn't I enough for you, Negan? Didn't I give you everything you ever wanted? I loved you. I waited on you hand and foot. I changed my entire life for you."_

   She was. Marie was. They saw through my fatal flaws and loved me anyway. They wanted to be with me, and I hurt them over and over.

   The bed was made with fresh sheets, but all I could picture was myself, kneeling on the bed, fucking the little mousy girl in the kitchen from behind, throwing the red panties away haphazardly as she moaned in pleasure, even though I hadn't even attempted to do anything other than pound myself into her.

   She'd delivered my food to me while I was at my lowest point, a few days after Marie was taken. Searches of every community for miles around had turned up nothing, no sign of her or Daryl. I'd come back from Alexandria ready to drink myself into a coma, and she'd slipped in with a tray.

   The next thing I knew, she was boldly straddling me, kissing my neck, and when I shut my eyes, it was my Angel. _She_ was the one on my lap, rubbing up and down, making me feel so good. _She_ was the one whispering in my ear that it was going to be okay.

   How we got to the bed, I don't fucking remember, but I do know that I had been pissed that she was wearing that ridiculous red lacey thing. My Angel only wore the boring, white cotton crap, and it only fueled my angry lust. Over and over, I thrust myself into her, trying to will her to be someone else, but she wasn't. Mouse girl was just a warm, tight hole to fuck, and when I got close, I shot my load onto the small of her back.

   She stayed there on her hands and knees until I climbed off of the bed, my head clear for the first time in days.

   "This never fucking happened," I told her in my coldest voice, throwing my jeans back on.

   "But I thought that-," she stuttered, looking at me with wide eyes.

   "You thought wrong."

   Leaving her in that pose, I went into the bathroom, slamming the door. By the time I showered and came out, she was gone, and I had the nagging desire to keep searching for my Angel. I didn't want to give up the only chance I had left at some sort of happiness. I didn't want to give into the world trying to beat me back down once again. And the next time I went out, I got the call that changed everything.

   Marie was there when I charged up the steps, fresh out of the shower and looking painfully thin. She was afraid that I blamed her, and I'm sure I looked like some sort of monster, breathing like Jabba the Hut and staring at her with a creeper expression. But it was like I was given a third fucking chance to make it right.

   I didn't want to wreck it by telling her that I'd done what I had. I wanted to just pick up where we left off, and make her mine forever. My fucking around days were over for good. I wanted to be with a good woman who believed that I was worth more than not working for points or protection.

   Now she's gone and I didn't know where. Probably run off to find Sherry and Dwight, and tell them that her one reason to stay was bullshit. I was bullshit.

   My wandering took me to the bathroom, where it was still filled with Marie's girly things. The only thing missing was her toothbrush, and my eyes filled with pussy tears at the sight. The big, bad, leader of the Sanctuary was standing in the lav crying over a toothbrush and all that it represented.

   Catching my reflection in the mirror, I'd never been less enamored of my own face. I was a good-looking bastard and I knew it. But all I could see now was the face of an asshole, and I threw the bottle at the mirror, watching as it shattered into a million pieces.

   It was a start, but my self-loathing wasn't going to be abated by one measly mirror. My shelves were next, turned into kindling by Lucille as I let out a bellow of rage. Pictures were ground into the wall, chairs turned into decorative art, and every sculpture I owned was hit like a baseball, exploding like fireworks.

   When my arm felt like it was going to fall off, I stumbled barefoot through the wreckage, barely feeling the cuts that followed, leaving bloody footprints along the floor as I searched the CDs for one in particular. Why not immerse myself totally in my misery by playing the one song guaranteed to send my shame spiral into mach speed?

   But it wasn't there. She'd taken it with her, a tiny squirt of lemon into the gaping hole in my heart.

   Fuck it. Alcohol will work just as well.

   In the grain-soaked remains of my rapidly fading consciousness, that long-gone voice screamed from an abyss to get off my ass and find Marie. Make it right, even if it took me a decade to locate her, but the voice was too weak, too far away to make a difference. Black sleep was much better. Until it wasn't.

   They were standing together on a dais, looking down on me with hands clasped together, the two women I'd loved and lost, both in flowy white gowns, looking like the goddesses they were. I'd scramble up the steps to reach them, only to slide back down to the bottom. Each time I tried to get back up to them, another step was added, and they ascended higher into the air. I was that Greek moron, the one who kept pushing a rock up the hill only to have it roll back down.

   No matter what I screamed to them, what I tried, they got further and further away from me until they disappeared into the light together, leaving me alone in the dark.

   I woke up panting, lying on my side in the wreck of my room to find Simon standing by the door.

   "Get the fuck out," I muttered over the pounding in my head and the matching rhythm of my heart. I didn't need his shit right now. God only knew what was going to come out of his mouth since I'd run off his precious surrogate daughter. I knew he didn't approve of me and her, and it had been obvious. Asshole Negan wasn't good enough for Marie, and I didn't need to be told that he was right.

   "You need to get up."

   "I said to get the fuck out and I meant it," I snarled, chucking the bottle towards him. He dodged it easily, his boots making crunching sounds as he crossed the mess to yank me to my feet. If I was in a better state of mind, I'd have decked him for putting his hands on me, but I wasn't. I was wobbly and disoriented, glancing around furtively for Lucille and Marie, feeling their presences in the room, a lingering scent of the two of them as they receded into my past.

   "We'll talk about Marie later," he warned me, the ballsy fuck, like I owed him anything. "We've got other issues right now."

   There was no other problem for me in my immediate future that compared to this, and I limped on cut-up soles to the desk, looping Marie's ring on the necklace and stuffing it in my pocket.

   Simon spun me around, and I swung my fist to deck him, but he stopped it easily, shoving it away from him with an annoyed sound.

   "Would you fucking listen to me and focus?"

   "Simon-"

   "Gregory is here," he said, snapping me out of my stupor momentarily. "We've got big fucking trouble, boss. Rick's gathering up people to fight."

   Over my dead fucking body was I losing this place, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, we are on our way back to Marie. Obviously, two chapters is not enough to delve completely into Negan's messed up psyche, but this should give you a taste of what is floating around in that scary place. I love that he is a flawed, complicated character, as is Marie (I hope). And I love that you guys are so passionate about this story. It keeps me going when I feel like I hit a wall sometimes. I just want to reiterate that just because I write something, or direct the plot a certain way doesn't mean I condone what people are thinking or doing. They're just words, and I'm not saying anyone is right or wrong in the story. They just do what they do, if that makes any sense. Marie is not perfect, Negan is DEFINITELY not perfect, and with the resolution of this story, I hope that you are entertained. It's all I hope for because I love you all, you beautiful readers! :)


	48. Crusade, You Say?

   The air was stagnant, a warm, earthy cloud around us as we waited breathlessly for either the all-clear or guns to point down at us in the hollow that Maggie and I currently occupied. There was only a thin stream of light that allowed me to center myself, to confirm that we hadn't slipped into the depths of hell.

   We'd heard only one gunshot and the sound of screams when we'd hightailed it out of the medical trailer with the Saviors closing in fast. Maggie had gotten us to this hidey-hole that was hidden under a pile of wood that was sitting on a bench along the fence, and we'd just made it in the nick of time, with only a knife and a gun between the two of us for protection.

   Now, we had nothing to do but wait, and the suspense was making me sick. That and the fact that I'd just had my pregnancy confirmed by the other Dr. Carson. The fact that the father of my baby was possibly above me killing people and decimating the Hilltop group made me even more ambivalent about where I was going to go from here. 

   Since we were insulated, we could only hear muffled voices, and I was unable to make out exactly what they were saying. Whoever was speaking definitely didn't sound happy, and I reached out to Maggie for comfort, to know that I wasn't alone in this claustrophobic situation. Her hand squeezed mine, and I was able to shut my eyes as I said a prayer of protection. She was pregnant, too, and I asked God to watch over her and her baby, the last link she had to her husband. 

   Out of nowhere, the urge to burst out laughing overtook me, and I bit down hard on my lip, tasting blood. The same thing had happened to me when Sherry and I stood outside Carolyn's boyfriend's door, waiting to catch them in the act, and I had no idea why it was happening in the current situation I was in. There was nothing funny about it, yet I couldn't stop the huff that flew out. 

   Maggie dug her nails into my palm, but that didn't help. Good Lord, I didn't want to get caught because I was laughing, and I put my free hand over my mouth, breathing in the smell of dirt, willing myself to calm the heck down. I would probably get out of here unscathed, but my hiding buddy surely wouldn't. 

   A loud boom shook the ground, spraying us both with dirt, and that killed my giggles real quick. Panic over the prospect of being buried alive took its place, no immediate thought of the people out in the open with the Saviors, and I jerked my arm to try to free myself, wanting to climb the walls to get out. 

   "You need to take a deep breath," Maggie whispered, holding me firmly. 

   "I don't want to die down here," I whimpered, knowing that I was a coward of biblical proportions. "I can't breathe."

   She let go of my hand and clawed at my shoulders, turning me towards her in the dark. I felt clammy fingers on my cheeks, and faint breath fanning my face. 

   "Breathe with me," she urged me, tipping my forehead so that it was touching hers. "Just breathe with me."

   In the chaos, in the dark, I listened to her murmured encouragement, trying to shut out everything that was happening above us, focusing on my breathing. In and out, over and over as the minutes dragged on. Two women, at the mercy of a group of mostly men. 

   It eventually quieted down, the rumble of trucks departing a low hum on the ground around us, and I let out a ragged sigh, not sure how many more times I could hide from Negan. 

   "I'm sorry," I apologized into the darkness, and Maggie patted my cheeks gently. "I'm not built for this."

   "Sure you are. You're a survivor. We all are."

   Time seemed to stand still as the trap door opened up, flooding us with bright light. It was Jesus, and he gestured for us to come up, though I couldn't see his face. Maggie went first, scrambling up the crude steps that had been dug into the earth, and she extended a hand to help me up the rest of the way. 

   Debris was scattered everywhere, and one of the trailers was still burning, plumes of smoke streaking up into the sky. Several people were working to put it out, wasting precious amounts of their water to quell the blaze. It felt surreal, the first real damage I'd seen being attributed to Negan and the Saviors, and my stomach clenched uncomfortably in response. But there was worse news to come.

   "Negan has Sasha," Jesus announced breathlessly with smudges of dirt across his face. "He knew right where to find her."

   Briefly, he explained that she'd hidden in the secret room he'd stashed us in the first time I'd been there, and she'd been dragged kicking and screaming from the house by Saviors, tossed into one of the trucks. 

   Negan had warned the rest of the Hilltop that he was everywhere and he knew everything, and if they didn't stand down, he'd return every day and take more people.

   "We have to go," Maggie told him, starting for the truck. "We have to warn Rick and figure out a way to get her back."

   Her composure was slipping, the imminent loss of another one of her people wearing on her, and I worried about her health. She'd been subject to tremendous pressure, and it wasn't good for her.

   "Maggie, I'll go," I offered. "You can't be seen there. You need to make sure everyone here is safe, and figure out how Negan knew what was going on."

   "Oh, I know how he knows," she spun around, looking pale. "Gregory."

   I looked at Jesus, whose eyes closed slowly. He believed it, too.

   "Your own leader would sell you out like that?"

   "To save his own ass, yes," Jesus confirmed. 

   "Well, then why didn't they find us?" I wondered, and he smiled, just a bit.

   "Because he doesn't know about that hiding spot. And I highly doubt he told Negan about you."

   Thinking about it for a second, I knew it had to be true. If Gregory had told Negan that I was there, that I had been there before and he didn't turn me in then, it would've been certain death for the coward. He was only giving as much information as he could without implicating himself, and it disgusted me. He had to be the worst person to lead a group that could've ever been chosen. Worse than Negan, because at least he owned his choices, no matter how bad or misguided they were. 

   "Do you feel comfortable taking me back to Alexandria?" I asked, and he nodded his head. 

   Maggie was looking around with a dazed, disjointed expression, the people starting to gather around her for direction. Pushing my way towards her, I gave her a quick hug. 

   "They look to you," I murmured. "They respect you. You need to stay here and I'll go to Rick to warn him. He'll know what to do."

   She didn't answer, but she gave me a resolute nod, handing me her gun. I pushed it back to her. She needed it, and Alexandria had plenty now, thanks to Rick. 

   Five minutes later, we were out of the gates, and I watched the smoke in the sky as it hovered behind us like a warning. Beware, because Negan knows everything.

   As was to be expected at this point, Jesus left me to my thoughts, and I rested my hand against my pocket, where the picture of my baby was safely tucked away. My baby.

   I didn't have words to express my thoughts on the situation. I hadn't planned on having children, either before or after the dead rose. I'd dedicated my life to the service of God, and that meant leaving behind a life of procreation. Once I'd been stripped of my vows and I entered into a relationship with Negan, still intending on not bringing another life into this world, despite his near-constant niggling at me to reconsider. 

   He'd always wanted children and had tried with Lucille, to no success. Only one time, in the middle of the night when neither of us could sleep, did he confess to me his fears that he couldn't have kids. I'd listened, trying not to get jealous as he told me about a few times with Amber that he hadn't used a condom, but nothing had resulted. He was afraid that he was sterile, and it was a weakness that he was ill-equipped to deal with. 

   I'd kissed him softly, bound in his arms, trying to reassure him that he was all that I needed. 

   "I want to have a legacy," he said, holding me tighter. "I want us to have something to leave this world."

   It had given me unwanted chills, the thought of having something of my own for the future, and now we did, though he didn't know it. 

   Unlike in the hole, the time flew by quickly as we sped towards Alexandria, with me distracted the entire time. I didn't see Jesus wipe away a wayward tear as he processed the images he had of Sasha being taken away and part of his home destroyed. I didn't see the walkers that were scattered on the road, left walking by the Saviors that had promised to keep the area safe. I didn't even see the doe that was feeding on the long blades of grass as we passed by, no longer afraid of the living. It had to worry more about the dead that never stopped, never slept. They only wanted to feed, and it didn't matter if it was human or animal.

   The gates were open as we approached, someone having spotted us from a high perch, and Rick was waiting there with Daryl as we pulled in, meeting Jesus at the door as he got out.

   "The Saviors came," he reported in a subdued voice. "Gregory told him we were working together, and he took Sasha."

   Rick's eyes narrowed dangerously, and Daryl began to pace in a circle. 

   "I know," Jesus said tiredly as I came around the side. Rick gave me a cursory glance before gesturing towards his house. We plodded along, single file as he strode with purpose past the living room and straight into the kitchen, where Michonne and Carl were feeding Judith some lunch. Man, it was only early afternoon, and we'd already received a serious blow. 

   Everyone took a seat, and I focused on Michonne and the baby, watching how naturally they interacted together, the woman feeding her bits of pureed food with an expert hand. I realized that I didn't know much about her, with no idea if she'd had kids of her own, but she was clearly experienced, and Judith was like a daughter to her, reaching up to be held with the influx of more people into her space. 

   She fit naturally into the crook of Michonne's arms, and Rick cleared his throat to get my attention. My head snapped up to find him watching me study his family, and his eyebrows rose as he waited for me to speak. 

  "What?"

   He sighed at my complete lack of smarts, and I gave him a defensive glare. This wasn't my area of expertise, and he knew that. 

   "What's his next step do you think?" he asked with exaggerated politeness. 

   I thought carefully before I spoke, an underlying current of guilt running through my veins as I thought about how Negan operated. I still didn't want to completely betray him, despite my leaving. I didn't want anything to happen to him physically.

   "He'll probably put her in a cell to break her down and get her to tell him everything," I muttered with a quick look to Daryl. It's what had happened to him, and he grunted in response. "If he can't do that, I imagine that he'll try to use her against you. But he won't waste much time. He'll come for you to stomp out any signs of an uprising."

   "And Gregory?" Rick asked, looking at Jesus. 

   "I'm sure Negan is going to milk that for all it's worth. He left yesterday and hasn't been seen since. He's probably still at the Sanctuary. He probably offered to shine Negan's boots for him."

   "All right," Rick said, clapping his hands together. "We need to fortify our walls and get all of our people armed. If Negan's going to come here, we need to make a stand and hold him off. We're officially done supplying him, and he's gonna know it."

   Daryl let out a growl, getting in Rick's face. 

   "We ain't gonna leave Sasha there. That's bullshit."

   "You can't help her right now," I said, flinching when he turned his withering stare to me. "You can't get in, and you'll only get yourself killed trying. You know that."

   "Well, we don't leave our people behind. We're loyal."

   It was a slap in the face, and I pushed myself away from the table as Michonne called out to me. My lack of loyalty was the reason that jerk even had a chance to get out from under Negan's thumb, and he was throwing it back in my face? 

   Aside from that, it hurt because I knew deep down that it was true. I'd betrayed Negan by coming here, no matter my reasons, and maybe Daryl didn't trust me because he thought I'd flip again. I wouldn't, I knew that in my soul. I wouldn't leave these people to walk into a fight blind, since they'd promised me not to kill Negan. 

   Father Gabriel's door was open, and I sped through straight up the steps into the guest bedroom where I'd taken up residence. I wanted to be alone to lick my wounds, and I made it to the bed before I'd started to cry. I was completely out of my element, and despite my intimate knowledge of Negan's compound, I wasn't a soldier in this fight. I was only a fountain of information, useful in a limited capacity, and I feared that it made me expendable. 

   For about the hundredth time in the past few weeks, I wondered if I should just cut my losses and go to Sherry. It was my intended destination anyway, and I could just leave all this behind and start fresh. Was it selfish? Yes. Was it also the safest of all my options? Also yes.

   Thankfully, everyone decided to give me my space, and I ended up sleeping through the day and the night, my exhausted body and brain getting a temporary reprieve. Jesus had gone back at some point, and I stumbled down to the kitchen the next morning to hunt for something to eat. My stomach was feeling queasy from not having anything to eat in twenty-four hours, and I had to remind myself that my actions going forward didn't just reflect on me, it also affected the little thing growing inside me. 

   I came to a sudden stop when I saw that Rick and Michonne were sitting at the table with Father Gabriel, and I took a step back, my face dropping. Whatever they were here to scold me about, I didn't want to hear it, but Rick waved me forward as Father Gabriel got to his feet, ushering me to his chair.

   "I'll leave you three alone," he said in his soft voice, giving me a pat on the shoulder. 

   Michonne got up and went to the stove, ladling me out a serving of oatmeal, and I put my head down to eat, hoping that they'd just leave. 

   "I wanted to apologize," Rick said, making my head lift up and to the side in confusion. What did he have to apologize about?

   "I have the feeling that we've made you feel like your position here is dependent on the information that you give to us, and I wanted to assure you that it's not true, despite what Daryl insinuated yesterday."

   The oatmeal sat in a lump on my tongue, and I struggled to swallow it down. 

   "You didn't have to help us," he said softly, patting my forearm, "and you still don't. You could've just left the Sanctuary and worried about yourself. So, I appreciate the risk you've taken in coming here. I'm sure it wasn't an easy decision for you."

   Once I was able to get the food down, I wiped my mouth to try to distract myself from crying. 

   "I don't want anyone to die. Not Sasha, not Negan, and not even Daryl," I said, making Rick smile. "I still believe that we can do this without a war. If we can get through Negan's visit here, we can start to take over the outposts. He won't hurt Sasha, as long as she doesn't give him a reason to. He doesn't like hurting women, believe it or not, and he values strength. Sasha is strong, and he'll want to use that like he did with Daryl. There's still hope."

   "We know that, and so does Daryl," Michonne added. "We really just wanted to say thank you, and tell you that even after all of this is over, you have a place here, if you want it."

   It wasn't an option for me, but I appreciated the sentiment behind it, and I thanked them sincerely. They left me with a request to join the group when I was ready to, and I managed to finish my breakfast, holding the food down after it threatened to come back up. 

   After hiding my picture in my drawer, I got my shower and dressed, heading towards the front of Alexandria, where Rick was arming the residents with guns, knives and a few grenades he'd managed to scavenge. 

   His instructions were simple: all vulnerable residents were to be protected in the center of town near the sewer, in case they needed to evacuate. Everyone else was to take up a position along the fence, ready to fight at the signal from Rick. We were to stay out of sight until the last possible second, and only to fire defensively at his signal. He was going to try to negotiate with Negan one last time, and offer a trade deal. 

   I knew it was a losing proposition, but we had to see it through at this point, the fundamental goal to protect Alexandria. Michonne had wanted me to stay with the weaker residents, but I'd refused, telling them that I could maybe be the Hail Mary.

   "What do you mean?" she asked as I followed her up onto the fence, sticking her sword on her back and unhooking a gun instead. 

   "If it looks hopeless, I'll pop up. Negan won't shoot me," I said with an air of confidence that I didn't quite feel. I mean, I knew he probably wouldn't shoot me, but he also could become so irate at seeing me with the enemy that he'd order an attack, thereby rendering my plan moot. "I might be able to convince him to stand down."

   Michonne leaned in with a serious expression, speaking so softly that I could barely hear her. 

   "The only way that would work is if you weren't just a bookkeeper. You'd have to mean more to him than just being a worker."

   Swallowing the lump in my throat, I could only manage one word. 

   "Exactly."

   Bless her heart, Michonne didn't say another word, she just gave me a short nod before taking her place on the other side of Rick. I slumped down against the wall, bending my knees as they kept watch over the horizon. They held hands almost the entire time, and I actively avoided trying to stare. 

   My little invader must have sensed that it was a pivotal situation, because it left me in peace most of the day, save for a few trips to the bathroom to pee. As the minutes turned into hours, we began to trade off to get short breaks.

   Daryl attempted to talk to me, but I brushed him off with a wave of my hand. I didn't want to have anything to do with him right now, still hurt by his accusation, and he got the hint, stalking off angrily to the other side of the walkway. 

   The sun was sinking lower into the sky when a flare went off above our heads, making me jump out of my skin. Rick raised his hand to remind us all to stay out of sight, and Michonne sunk down below the sightline, gripping her weapon with tight hands. 

   I couldn't see, but I could hear the trucks as they got closer, one of them stopping close enough so that I could smell the exhaust, wrinkling my nose in revulsion. The sound of doors opening and closing made my heart start to beat wildly, my palms starting to sweat. 

   Rick, God love him, just kept his perfect posture, his breathing deep and even as the sound of footsteps, lots of footsteps, got closer. He was way more used to this type of situation than I was, sadly for him. 

   And then I heard him. 

   "Well, well, well, if it isn't Slick Rick the Prick, keeping watch up there like a good little soldier."

   "Negan," Rick said cooly, leaning to rest his hands on the edge of the wall. I sucked my lips in between my teeth to keep from either screaming or vomiting, and I heard Negan laugh. 

   "You know, I'm not happy, Rick," he sighed. "Can you possibly guess why I'm perturbed?"

   "Not enough fiber in your diet?"

   Negan laughed heartily, a slapping sound filling the air as I shut my eyes, my face closing in on itself. I knew that laugh, and it covered up a volcanic anger. 

   "Color me impressed, Rick," he chuckled. "I didn't think you had a sense of humor. No, that's not why I'm irritable today. You see, I could be home screwing my wives, enjoying a rare lazy day on my back, but instead-"

   He stopped because of me. Because I ruined Rick's plan. The second he mentioned his wives, my eyes snapped open and I saw red. I didn't do it on purpose. I just lost it. He just had to be a jerk at all costs. 

   As soon as I stood up, I heard Rick curse loudly but I ignored him, all of my focus on Negan who was looking at me like I'd risen from the dead. 

   "Is that so?" I asked, raising my gun and aiming it at his very shocked face. 

   Yep, my pride and I had just screwed us all royally.


	49. Sermon on the Ground

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first skirmish between the Saviors and Alexandria starts with a bang...

   The air between the two factions was thick with tension. So thick that it seemed to radiate in waves, the sort of blurry lines that happened on a hot road in the dead of summer, and I could feel the gun shaking in my hand, lowering it because I'd never be able to use it on Negan.

   When he and I had locked eyes, everything around me seemed to vanish, the chasm between us like a large pit, destined to swallow everything up.

   But I have to give Negan credit. He recovered from the blow much quicker than I would have if the situation had been reversed. He broke eye contact, turning his attention towards Rick, and a smile began to slowly dawn on his lips. True, it looked extremely forced to my eyes, and it was more akin to a wolf baring its teeth, but it was there.

   "Well, well, well," he said in a strong voice, though his fists were clenched tightly around Lucille like he wanted nothing more than to bash Rick's head in. "I didn't think you had it in ya, Ricky, holding one of my people hostage."

   It was on the tip of my tongue to object and tell him that Rick did no such thing, but he clamped a hand down on my arm, pulling me towards him and snatching the gun from my hand to point it at my head. I was bowled over by this turn of events, but I knew that he was scrambling to get the upper hand back, and my eyes searched Negan's desperately.

   He didn't react at all. He just kept his smile, making a point of not looking at me, and after a few seconds, he raised his left hand in the air and gestured back with one finger wiggling.

   "Don't do anything," Rick whispered in my ear, warning me not to make the situation any worse than it already was, and I struggled to remain standing, my knees turning to limp noodles.

   Everyone else on the wall stood up in unison, pointing their guns as the Saviors that lined the fence. Negan stood tall and proud, completely unbothered by the fact that he was in the crosshairs of several weapons as there was a flurry of activity behind me.

   My heart dropped into my shoes as Simon came walking up to the front, dragging a hooded figure with him, and Rick let out a low groan as I realized that it was Sasha. She struggled against being held, but Simon kept a firm grip on her to keep her from getting away.

   "We have ourselves a little conundrum here," Negan said genially as he swung his bat back and forth like he was teeing up for a golf shot. "You have one of my people, and I have one of yours. So here's how it's gonna go. We're going to make a little trade, and you're going to _stand down_. We'll forget your little attempt to revolt, and in exchange, I won't burn this fucking place to the ground."

   He punctuated his speech with a swing that just missed Sasha's head, turning his body so that he was looking over his shoulder at Rick. The click of the Saviors readying their own guns sent a bead of sweat down the back of my neck.

  This was all my fault, and with a burst of strength, I elbowed Rick in the gut, surprising him, and I grabbed the weapon out of his hand. All of the Saviors reacted, holding up their guns, but Negan just held up his hand again, and nothing happened.

   I aimed the gun at Rick, turning to face him.

   "I'll go, and you'll get Sasha back," I whispered as Michonne's eyes bugged out.

   "No."

   "I'll fix this,"I promised, edging towards the steps. "I swear I will."

   No one tried to stop me as I climbed down, but I felt the heat of angry stares on my back as I walked with tremulous steps towards the gate. Daryl was standing right beside it, and he gave me the most hateful look I'd ever seen, making my front burn as much as my back did. But he unlatched the gate, pulling it open as he hid behind it, and I tossed him the gun.

   Father Gabriel was standing there, too, and he nodded once at me before giving me some space so that I could squeeze through the small opening. I felt like I was walking to the guillotine as I crossed the threshold into Savior territory, and once I was safely there, Simon shoved Sasha forward. She moved with shuffling steps, unsurely edging her way along.

   To help her out, Father Gabriel called out to her to direct her to safety and her movements sped up. Simon yanked me securely by the arm to his side as I started to shiver.

   When Sasha reached the inner wall, the gate slammed shut, closing out my chance to be free.

   Not two seconds later, someone let out an ear-piercing scream of pain as Simon started backing up, and I looked at him in confusion.

   "Oops. I forgot to tell you that she turned," Negan called out. "Sorry about that."

   The last thing I saw was Rick letting out a bellow of rage before whipping out a gun and firing. I was shoved behind a truck as guns started going off around me, and I hit the ground on my knees.

   He'd killed Sasha. He'd killed her and I just helped him kill someone else.

   I didn't hear the gunshots go off, I didn't feel the crush of Simon as he stood over me firing. I didn't register anything until I felt strong arms closing around my upper arms, turning me. Negan got into my face, and I flipped out. I scratched and clawed at him, trying to get free.

   "You killed her! You killed her, you monster," I sobbed as he shook me roughly enough to rattle my teeth together.

   "I didn't kill her," he yelled, shaking me harder with each word. "I gave her a choice and she killed herself. I found her like that in the cells this morning."

   I stared into his eyes, and I knew he was telling me the truth. I saw no sign that he was lying. Negan let go of my arms and moved his hands up to my face, holding it steady.

   "Negan please," I begged, clutching at his jacket and pulling at him so that we were only inches from each other. The fight raged on around us, but I only had eyes for one person. "Please don't do this. You can stop this, right now. Just walk over there and put an end to this. Make a deal with him."

   He started to shake his head, but I wrenched it back and kept going, this pivotal point in our lives.

   "We can have a life, Negan. Together. I'll come home and we'll work out our problems," I said, kissing him on the lips. "We can work with these other communities, and build something. We'll have a legacy. We'll be a family, you and me. We can have kids, I promise."

   This was my Hail Mary, and I meant every word. If he could do this, I'd go home, and we'd start over. Despite everything that had happened between us, my mistakes and his, I still loved this man. I wanted to believe that we could have a life together, and I kissed him one more time, crying into his lips.

   When I pulled back, I could see his eyes softening, and I felt my heart start to flutter in my chest.

   "Choose _me_ ," I whispered, running my thumb across his lips. "Choose _us_."

   I'd like to think that if his men hadn't called out to him, he would've chosen me. I could see in his eyes that he was imagining a future where we were together, raising what he thought was hypothetical children. A life with laughter, and love.

   "Boss! We're dyin' over here," called one of the men. "What do we do?"

   And just like that, the hope was gone. Something shut down in his gaze, a shutter closing out the images of the two of us, and he made his choice. The Sanctuary and all it represented in his eyes would always mean more to him than anything I could ever give him.

   "Simon, get her to the truck and get her home," he ordered, releasing me as I began to struggle. "I'll fix this, Angel, all of it. We can still have everything, after I make sure that this shit ends."

   I kicked out as he took off, following his men as they fanned out with their weapons, and I fought Simon every step of the way. He'd chosen death and violence over love, the lure of power and domination a sweeter option, and I felt myself begin to fade.

   People ran around us as Simon kept me marching in front of him to the last truck in the row until I heard a popping sound, a whizzing noise, and a loud gurgle. Turning around, I looked on in horror as the front of Simon's shirt started to turn red. Blood red, and he tipped forward, knocking me to the ground where I was trapped underneath him.

   I could register the warmth of his blood spreading between us, his weight pinning me into the dirt, cutting off my air supply so that I couldn't even scream for help.

   "Simon," I rasped, looking up into his rapidly paling face, knowing that I'd failed on every front, my fingers digging into his sticky shirt. "Simon, no."

   Wincing, he made an effort to roll off of me, and I helped him onto his back, pressing my hand against the front of his chest as his breaths started to become rattled.

   "You need to run, kid. Run and don't ever look back," he said, bringing two blood-soaked fingers up to my cheeks, wiping away the tears that were dripping down them. I didn't know what to do, how to help him, my friend. The man who had always looked out for me was dying, and there was nothing I could do. "Do you...understand what I'm saying? _Don't look back_."

   The fingers slipped from my face, dropping onto his chest as his breath started to slow, and all along the sounds of guns and explosions punctuated the air. Simon's eyelids fluttered shut, and I kissed him quickly on the forehead before lurching to my feet in the dying embers of the day, covering the back of my head with my hands and running away from Alexandria. Away from the fight that tore on like a neverending fireworks explosion.

   There was a wreck of a house that stood outside the gates, one that had been set on fire at one point, and I ducked down low as I ran, throwing myself inside the garage with a grunt, dropping to my knees with a cry. Simon was gone, Sasha was gone, and who knew who else.

   A grenade went off, shaking the world, and I skittered across the cement floor towards the interior of the house to hide, something I was getting good at. I hid from danger, and I hid from myself.

   The inside was a mess, debris, and pieces of the house and discarded furniture laying everywhere. I didn't have any other options, though, and I picked my way through carefully, nearly falling through the rotten wood floor as my foot punched through a weak spot. Shrieking, I pulled my leg out and kept along the walls at that point, ensconcing myself in a little closet, throwing me back to when I hid after Father Thomas died. From Negan. From Simon.

   He was most likely dead by this point, the genial man with the sparkling eyes and bushy mustache. An enemy to the Alexandrians, but a friend to me. He taught me how to fight and defend myself. He kept an eye on me and stood up to his oldest friend when he thought I wasn't being treated fairly by Negan. And I'd left him in the street to die alone.

   Fresh rage began to flow through me, and I punched the wall in frustration, my fist going into the soft drywall. It hurt but also felt gratifying in a way, physical proof of my anger and sorrow marking this structure for as long as it stood.

   Several minutes later, the gunshots began to slow down, and the sound of trucks springing to life took its place. The Saviors retreating, living to fight another day, and I hunched over my knees, resting my forehead on them as I listened to the world gradually go silent.

   I was going to wait it out here until the morning, and then I was gone. There was nothing for me here. No Negan, no promise of living in peace. I'd write down any more useful information I could think of, and then I was leaving. I couldn't stay where there was so much pain. Where I'd have to face the choices I'd made.

   The carpet in the closet was musty, smelling like decay and neglect, but I curled up on it anyway, laying on my side as I watched the light fade underneath the crack of the door, my eyes shutting on their own not long after the world plunged back into darkness.

   I slept heavily, only vaguely becoming aware that I was being carried by someone, and I started to struggle, only to have them hold me more securely to their chest. Behind closed eyes, I gave up, resigning myself to whatever awaited me, and I turned my face in, resting against a neck that smelled like sweat and the outdoors.

   The gentle swaying rhythm lulled me back to sleep, and I was set down on a soft bed, curling back on my side with a whimper. A blanket was put over my body, and as the door shut quietly, I could swear that I heard the roar of a large animal.


	50. The Unrest of Many Souls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was much harder for me than the previous one...

   The next morning, I was led with a very firm grip by Daryl to Rick's house. He'd been the one to fish me out of the abandoned house, and he'd spent the night on the couch, waiting for me to wake up.

   When I'd emerged downstairs in the previous day's clothes, looking for Father Gabriel, I'd found him laying on his side, covered up with a thin blanket. His shoulder was sporting a deep scratch, with dried blood coagulated around the edges.

   I shook him softly, and he shot up with his fist cocked, making me skitter back a few steps. With a deep sigh, he rubbed his face, smearing dirt along his cheek.

   "Where's Father Gabriel?" I asked in a hoarse voice, as thirsty as I'd ever been.

   He looked up at me through dirty strands of hair, giving me a solemn look.

   "He was attacked by Sasha," he told me, and I took another step back. "His throat was torn out before we could get to him."

   I could feel my face crumple as I sat down unsteadily on the chair opposite him. The sweet, gentle person I'd come to know was gone, another in this stupid fight, and I started to cry as Daryl threw the blanket off of his legs and got to his feet. He left me there to process the blow, going in and rummaging around in the kitchen before returning with a large glass of water that he set on the coffee table in front of me.

   "I'm sorry," he said in a gravelly voice. "I know you were close with him."

   I didn't bother responding, reaching out with trembling hands for the glass. The liquid slid down my throat in a cool tumble, hitting my stomach and quenching the burning there.

   "This was all my fault," I managed, setting the glass back down with a thump and looking around sadly. "If I would've just stayed down, none of this would have happened."

   "Nah," he muttered as he crouched down to the right of me. "She was already dead when she got here, and that asshole woulda sent her in anyway."

   "Who else did you lose?" I dared to ask, wiping at my wet face and coming away with pink tinted fingers, reminding me that I'd lost Simon. It left me feeling sick to my stomach, as he was one of the few people that I'd worked so hard to protect. They saw him as Negan’s second, but to me, he was a good friend and a protector.

   "Rosita was shot in the arm, but she'll survive," he said, looking at my fingers. "Everyone else is okay, I think."

   "That's good," I replied automatically, still staring at Simon's blood.

   "Is that yours?" Daryl asked, jerking his head towards my hand.

   "Simon's," I whispered as he let the corner of his mouth lift up, making me feel irate. "He was my friend," I snapped, getting to my feet. "Just get out, Daryl, and leave me the hell alone."

   I started for the steps, but he pulled me to a stop, and I swung around, slapping him in the face, not even letting the eruption of violence on my side get me rattled.

   "He saved my life more than once, and he was a good guy," I raged, all of the emotion that I was stomping down roaring up and out onto him. "He didn't deserve to die like that, and you taking pleasure in it makes you an asshole."

   "No, he carried out Negan's orders like the good little soldier he was," he said, pinning my arms to my sides. "He wasn't innocent, Marie."

   "He was to me," I wailed, stomping down on his foot. He let me go, and I raced up the steps, slamming the door behind me as I sat down on the bed. Screw him. He had no idea what I was feeling, and it wasn't his place to judge me or make me feel crappy about it. I had just as much right to mourn my friends as he did his.

   I heard the front door slam a few minutes later, and I gathered up my things to clean myself up, dumping them on the top of the toilet before turning on the shower. My stomach was cramping again, and I rubbed it carefully as I checked my reflection in the mirror.

   Two streaks of blood were running down my cheek like some sort of war decoration, and my eyes were bloodshot. In the back of my mind, his final words were on a loop. _Don't look back._

   Deep down, he knew what I longed for was fruitless, and so did I. For one brief moment, I thought that Negan was going to stand down, to try to get along with the other communities and rebuild the world again. But he'd warned me from the beginning that he was always going to be the man in charge. He'd never step down on his own, not even for me.

   I hadn't told him that I was pregnant because I didn't want that to be the catalyst for his decision. I wanted him to choose me because he loved me. Not because I was carrying his baby. But he didn't. Maybe he couldn't. Maybe, he was never going to choose me forever.

   Tired of thinking about Negan and what I'd had in my grasp, I got into the shower, saying a prayer for Simon and Father Gabriel. Two men who couldn't have been more different, but both that had changed my life. Now they were gone, and I resolved to go outside the gates and bury Simon myself if he was still there. He deserved a proper burial, of that I was sure.

   Thirty minutes later, I left Father Gabriel's house and started off towards the entrance, stopping at one of the resident's houses to borrow a shovel. I held it in both hands as I went to the entrance, waiting patiently as Tobin hemmed and hawed about letting me go.

   "Open it up," came a voice from behind me, and my shoulders stiffened in response. Daryl just couldn't take the hint, and he followed me out to inspect the carnage.

   Simon wasn't the only one who'd perished. There were at least six other men who were lying dead on the ground. One of them was Terry from the garage, his head blown open. A wave of nausea washed over me, and I stepped over his corpse towards the one person I cared about the most out here.

   Someone, probably Daryl, had stabbed him in the head to make sure he didn't turn, and I dropped down next to him with a cry. He was gone, nothing more than an empty shell, and I thought back to how he'd helped me bury Father Thomas, working into the sunset to make sure he'd been treated with dignity and respect.

   His features were smooth, almost like he could've been asleep, and I ran my fingers through his hair to try and make it look nice, delaying the moment I'd have to say goodbye to him forever. I would never hear him call me 'kid' again, and I'd never see his mischevious smile. He'd never give me advice, and he'd never find his own happiness. The unfairness of it all caused me to let out a choked wail, and I bent over his cold body to sob.

   The sound of a shovel hitting the earth made me look up, and I saw that Daryl was digging a grave in the dirt just off the road. I took Simon's hand, holding it as he worked, and when the grave was large enough, Daryl threw the tool down on the ground, stalking over to me to help me transfer Simon's body into the hole.

   I held my friend under the armpits, and Daryl took him by the legs, carrying him over to the grass. We set him down gently, and he climbed into the grave to lay him down, crossing his arms over his chest as I let the tears fall down my face, not even attempting to wipe them away.

   The prayer came from my lips without even thinking, a blessing for him to find his way into the beyond, to have his daughter waiting for him, and Daryl began to shovel the dirt back in as I used my hands, swallowing thickly when his form was completely covered up.

   "Thank you," I said quietly as he turned and left me there. It was a peace offering, I knew, and I appreciated it more than he realized. The ache made my throat burn, and I couldn't make it go away, no matter what I did.

   When I got to my feet, I made my way back inside, in no hurry to answer for my foolish decisions. But Daryl was waiting for me, once again, and this time his face was stony.

   He took me by the arm, leading me towards Rick's as my heart thrummed erratically. Something had happened to make him angry again, and I wasn't sure why until I saw Maggie sitting on the porch, giving me a guilty look.

   She'd told them.

   Daryl marched me past her as I stared her down, and she got up from her seat to join us in Rick's house. I shook myself free when we reached the kitchen, and I stood defiantly against the wall while Rick looked me up and down, his mood stoic.

   When he spoke, his tone was even with an underlying edge of irritation. "Why didn't you tell us you were one of Negan's wives?"

   "Because I'm not," I said sarcastically, sliding across the wall when Maggie moved to stand next to me.

   "But you were in a relationship with him," Rick prodded, and I nodded my head after a moment. "How could you not tell us?"

   "Because it's none of your business," I practically screeched, pushing myself forward.

   "It is when your being here could've triggered a slaughter on our end," he shot back, getting to his feet, even though Michonne reached out to restrain him.

   "My relationship with him didn't start this fight, and it's not going to change it. Instead of worrying about me, you should plan on how you're going to protect yourselves now that you shot first," I snapped, hoping to deflect some of the guilt I was feeling. "If you don't want my help anymore, I'll just be on my merry way. But I can tell you after what happened yesterday, he'll be gunning for everyone here. And he won't stop. Take the information I've given you, and good freaking luck with that."

   Turning on my heel, I pushed my way through Aaron and Eric to head outside, my chest starting to hurt. I didn't think I was having a heart attack, but it felt like what I imagined one must be. When I was out of the house, I turned towards the back of the community to where I knew they buried their dead.

   There was a fresh new grave, and I started towards it, waiting until one of the Alexandrians that was standing there wandered off. Instead of a gravestone, there was a wooden stake with Father Gabriel's name on it painted in white, and I knelt down beside his head, folding my hands in prayer.

   I hadn't known him long, but given the state of the world, even if you only had a few weeks or months with someone, it felt like a lifetime, and I bowed my head as I paid my respects. Another good person was gone, and the rest of us were left to deal with the aftermath. As with Simon, I wished him well, getting to my feet after a few minutes, scanning the dozens of names that littered their makeshift memorial wall.

   The sooner I could get my things packed, the quicker I could get on the road to Sherry. Negan would no doubt be planning another attack, and if these people were going to sit around wasting time judging me, then they were going to get picked off easily. I had another life to worry about now, and I wasn't going to leave myself vulnerable anymore. Trying to help obviously wasn't my forte, outside of praying for someone or using stupid meaningless points to buy supplies, so I was better off just looking out for number one.

   It wasn't a surprise to see Rick waiting for me on the porch as I approached Father's house, but I was already exhausted from the morning's events. He opened the door, and I went inside, sitting down on the chair. He took a spot on the couch that Daryl had slept on, and we looked at each other, waiting for the other to speak.

   Finally, Rick cleared his throat, and he looked down at his knees as he spoke.

   "I wasn't trying to pry into your life, but you have to look at it from my side of things. You being intimately involved with Negan comes across as a conflict of interest," he said. I tried not to get riled up and let him get what he wanted to say off his chest. "And I'm left wondering why you really came to us. Is this a personal vendetta because of a relationship gone bad?"

   "No, it's not," I replied carefully as he looked up. "I'm not going to lie and say I don't love him, because I do. And if there was a way to work this out, I would. But that doesn't change the fact that there is a better way to live. And when I went to him yesterday during the exchange, I tried to get him to meet with you, to broker some kind of deal. And if there wasn't a fight going on around us, I think I could've succeeded. But I'm still adamant that nothing happens to him, Rick."

   "Well, I can't guarantee his safety any more than I can guarantee my own," Rick stood up as he spoke, making a slow circle around the room. "And he killed Sasha."

   "He didn't," I said quietly as he came to a stop in front of me. "He said he offered her a choice, and she took her own life."

   "And you believe him?"

   "I do," I looked him in the eye. "He has no reason to lie to me. I would've known if he did because I _know_ him. I think, and this is just my personal opinion, that Sasha did it as a last-ditch effort to take him out. Maybe on her own terms, thinking that she was dead either way. He'd told her that he was going to fetch her in the morning. I'm guessing that she thought she'd catch him off-guard."

   His jaw tightened as he stared down at me, giving me a stiff nod after a second.

   "So the ball is in your court, Rick. Either you try to work with me, to be the merciful one, or you go off and do what you want. But I can't stay here, and I can't help you if you're just going to kill him. Despite what you think, there's a good man buried deep, down in there, someone who can be saved."

   "I talked with Maggie," he said after a long moment, perching on the edge of the coffee table so that we were eye-to-eye. "She's the one that made the decision for me."

   I knew what was coming. A long speech about vengeance, probably, with Maggie in the starring role. How she deserved to see him die, blah, blah, blah. And I wasn't made of stone. I ached for what she had lost, but it didn't change the fact that they'd started this mess.

   But that wasn't what he said.

   "She said as long as he's put in the cell in our basement, she doesn't want him to die, either, because of you. She doesn't want you to have to live with what she is."

   To say that I was stunned was an understatement, and I felt my eyes well up in relief and gratitude. It was a level of selflessness and compassion that I'd never expected, and I let out a long breath.

   "Thank you," I managed to say after a moment, and he patted my arm.

   "Everyone's been told that he's not to be killed unless it's a life or death situation, and I'll do my best to see that through."

   "You're a good man, Rick. It means more to me than you'll ever realize."

   He gave me a sheepish look before reaching into his back pocket for a tiny bottle of pills, pressing them into my hands.

   "Maggie asked me to give these to you," he told me before starting for the door. "By the way, you're leaving with them to go to the Hilltop in one hour. Pack everything you need, because we're putting this plan into action today. Everyone's meeting there to organize and I want you on the radio directing the teams."

   He was gone when I looked down to see that they were prenatal vitamins, and I almost lost it then and there. Rick knew why I needed Negan to live, too.


	51. David and Goliath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The skirmish begins...

   Maggie handed me a third carrot, and I bit into it as I studied the large map laying on the desk in Gregory's office, my pencil moving in slow circles as I marked off the outposts. The only sounds that permeated the air were my chewing and the scratch of lead on the paper. 

   Everyone else had gone to load up their trucks, big, monstrous vehicles that had been reinforced with metal on the outside to become makeshift protective barriers for Rick and his teams. They were almost ready to leave to begin phase one of "Remove Negan from Power". 

   It basically consisted of a coordinated effort by Alexandria, Honeywell, the Kingdom and the Hilltop to attack the outposts and storage buildings at one time. Rick and the other leaders were going to surround the area around each one and give them five minutes to surrender. If they didn't, it was open season on everyone inside.

   Eugene had devised a way to jam the Savior radio frequencies, meaning they wouldn't be able to call for help or warn Negan. The Sanctuary was going to be the last stop, since Tara and Carol from the Kingdom were currently en route, leading a large herd of the dead to surround it. 

   I'd expressed reservations about siccing a massive group of walkers on my former home, but Daryl said it was only to trap them inside, and since he knew that the factory was more or less impregnable with the doors shut, I hadn't been able to put up much of an argument. I knew that he was right, it just worried me that so many things could go wrong with this plan, especially with me manning the radio to help everyone get into position. 

   "Here," I said between bites, motioning to Maggie to get closer. "This is the access road to the Sanctuary. The woods are to the back," I showed her, drawing a ragged line behind my crude Sanctuary replica. "The meadow is here, and there are a few residential streets to the left."

   She studied the area, questioning me about the layout of the factory, and I told her that there was only one main entrance, the back of the building fenced in as a training area, making my throat close up briefly as I reminisced about Simon teaching me how to shoot and defend myself. 

   Maggie waited solemnly until I regained my composure, and I walked out with her into the yard, watching as she handed out notes and maps to each group that was getting ready to head out. It was late afternoon, and they wanted to be in place well before the sun went down so that they could attack at first light. 

   Rick and Daryl were going together to scope out the checkpoints that Negan had set up in every direction around the Sanctuary. They were critical spots that had to be secured if they wanted to get anywhere close to his home, and I'd made crudely drawn pictures of the houses and hunting stands that served as watchtowers. 

   The Alexandria leader had been grim-faced when I'd finally laid out everything I knew about Negan's security precautions, grudgingly admitting that they'd severely underestimated his power. 

   "You know, Negan told me that if he'd met you under different circumstances, he'd probably really like you," I said as we walked towards his truck. "He recognizes your intelligence and your fire."

   Rick gave me a surprised look before reverting to his usual squint, and I let the matter drop, hoping that the message sunk in. Negan was a person. The enemy, yes. But not the devil, not evil incarnate. I wanted Rick to recognize something in Negan as well.

   Everyone began to load up before Rick called them back, intending to make one of his speeches. Unfortunately, or maybe, fortunately, depending on one's viewpoint, I began to feel nauseous, and I hustled back to the house to the bathroom. The sight of the carrots I'd eaten coming back up made my head spin, and I knelt on the ground, resting my head on the cool

   By the time I felt well enough to go back out, the area was deserted, save the few people that had chosen to stay behind as protection, and I went into Gregory's office, turning on the radio as I ran over the several possible scenarios that awaited this mission. 

   If everything went according to plan, all of the outposts would be secured and Negan would be surrounded at the Sanctuary, unable to get weapons and supplies, thereby forcing him to surrender to Rick. 

   The other possibility was that only a few of the spots could be overtaken, and the Saviors that got free would go back to the factory and free the people inside. If any of the weapons holds weren't acquired, they would be cleared out immediately as per Negan's protocol, brought back to the main building. 

   The final, worst possible outcome would be a failure on all fronts, and those of us left would be rounded up, executed. Negan would take over the rest of the communities, and it would fuel his bloodlust. I assume that I would be spared, but I wasn't sure if I wanted to be if everyone else was going to pay for an idea that I came up with.

   There was nothing that I could do about it now, and when it grew dark, I went over to Gregory's couch, laying down on my side to try to sleep. The fabric smelled like cheap cologne, and I threw the little pillows onto the floor to try to escape the offensive odor, laying on my back in the dark. 

   Eventually, I fell asleep, tossing and turning as Negan invaded my dreams, at times sweetly, and others as a looming spectre, covered in blood and holding a severed head that I couldn't identify. 

   The sound of the radio whirring woke me up, and I sat up with a pounding head, grabbing it as Eugene's mechanical voice came blaring through.

   "Alpha team to Command Center. Come in, over."

   I assumed I was command center, and I held down the button, speaking with a raspy, sleep-laden voice.

   "This is Command Center. Go ahead."

   "Proper two-way radio etiquette necessitates that you end all communication with the word 'over'. Over."

   Oh, dear Lord, I didn't think I could handle Eugene's quirks this early in the morning, no matter the seriousness of what they were about to do. 

   When I spoke again, it was through clenched teeth. "Command Center is here. _Over_."

   My back was aching as I stumbled over to the light switch, flooding the room with a warm glow. It was just before dawn, and I made my way over to the desk to man my position, as backup navigation. 

   "At this time I will require that all teams check in," Eugene droned through the speaker, "as well as after I attempt to disable the Savior communication system. Over."

   The room was silent as I waited with amusement to see how the other teams would respond. After a minute, Rick's strained voice crackled over the radio. 

   "Grimes checking in. Over."

   "This is Maggie. Over."

   "Stellan checking in. Over."

   "This is Aaron and we're in place."

   "Uh, over."

   The volley of check-ins continued until every group was accounted for, and then Eugene announced radio silence for the next five minutes while he 'attempted to give everyone the sure-fire, inalienable upper hand'.

   While we waited, there was a knock on the door, and Dr. Carson came in with some water and dried fruit for me. I gave him a thankful smile, inhaling the food as my stomach growled, and he looked over the map with a downturned expression.

   "Something wrong?" I asked between handfuls of dried apples and a smattering of nuts. He shook his head, running his finger along the drawing of the Sanctuary. 

   "I was just thinking about my brother," he mentioned with a quirk of his lips. "Hoping he makes it through this."

   I swallowed down the last of my breakfast, drinking a large gulp of water. "The goal is only to get Negan to surrender, not hurt anyone in there. I like your brother very much," I said, leaning forward in the chair to pat his hand. "He's always been very kind to me, and if this goes as planned, he'll be free to do whatever he wants, whether it's to stay there or join you here."

   "Everyone's on pins and needles out there," he said as the radio sprung to life again. 

   "This is Alpha team checking in for a relay of all teams, over."

   Sighing both in annoyance and admiration, I announced that I was still here, making sure to add 'over' at the end. Everyone else was accounted for as well, and then Rick got on the line with one instruction. 

   "I want eyes on all areas," he said in a tinny sounding voice. "Use the radios only if needed. We need to stay quiet and focused. We're a go in twenty minutes. Over."

   This was it. They were making their stand, and all I could do was wait, and help if needed. Clenching my hands into fists, I shut my eyes and said a prayer of protection for everyone involved. Rick, Daryl, Maggie, Aaron, and everyone else. Even the darned tiger, which had accompanied King Ezekiel and his group to one of the outposts that held the weapons. 

   My most fervent prayer was for Negan, that he recognized the gravity of this stand, this attempt to be free, and that he stand down and accept that his way was not the way. It couldn't be when it only benefitted a few, and if we were going to survive the new world, it had to be good for everyone. There were too many hazards to overcome now, and if we turned on each other, we were making it easier to go extinct. 

   I heard nothing and knew nothing for the next two hours, and no one checked in needing my help, feeding into my fear that it had all gone sideways. With nothing to do but pace, I wore a track around Gregory's office, so out of sorts that Dr. Carson became concerned and wanted to check my blood pressure. He jogged back to his trailer, returning with a blood pressure cuff and made me sit down and take deep breaths. 

   "It's a little high," he said, putting his stethoscope on and checking my heartbeat as I stared unblinkingly at the painting that hung on the opposite wall. It was of a black-haired man on horseback, bearded and imposing, and the resemblance struck a little too close to home, making my hand settle on my stomach. Was Negan going to die, never knowing about the baby?

   "Marie, it's going to be okay," Dr. Carson said in a soothing voice. "Just take deep breaths."

   I did for a few minutes, tearing my eyes away from the painted man that watched me with a piercing gaze, willing someone to check in with news. But nothing happened for another few hours, well into the day.

   "This is Alpha team checking in with Command Center. We have now secured our primary target and are moving on to the weapons hold. Over."

   My hands shook as I grabbed the radio. 

   "Message received. Over."

   As the day wore on, people checked in to confirm that they'd managed to overtake each building and lookout point. Some went smoother than others, but each one involved losses.

   The outpost that Rick had attacked a few months ago had been the worst, with everyone inside killed. Another that housed Negan's scavengers who went on long-term road trips was also decimated, but they'd lost Eric and Tobin in the process, a heartbreaking development. 

   Presently, Rick, Maggie and Stellan's teams were en route to the Sanctuary to help with the herd, which was only an hour away, and I was left in the dark again. 

   I had to get some air, and I took the radio with me as Dr. Carson accompanied me outside onto the porch. The air was balmy, and there were a few people still working outside, tending to the garden or washing clothes. 

   There was a peacefulness here as I sat in the rocking chair, wondering if there was a future after this. Would I be able to carry my pregnancy to term with no complications? Would Maggie?

   My thoughts turned to Sherry, and I pondered how she was doing. Hopefully, she and Dwight were making it work, and maybe they'd even found some other people to help. By this point, maybe they'd been able to build a little community of their own. The other option was too painful to think about at this point.

   The sun was a fat orange in the sky, peeking through the low clouds that had gathered on the horizon, and I shielded my eyes, rocking slowly back and forth as two children, a boy and a girl chased each other around the grounds. They were laughing, the boy following the little brown-haired girl as she ran between the trailers, her hair flying in long tendrils. She had a look of utter joy on her face, the innocence of not having to deal with the outside world, and it left me emotional. 

   I wanted nothing more than the same for my own child, for all the children that had to navigate a world that they knew to be the only reality now. They'd never grown up without having to keep quiet when a herd came by, or been able to play outside the walls of their home unsupervised. All they knew were these stunted, strange realities of day-to-day life, and I didn't know how I was going to do this alone. 

   "The herd is in place, and the Sanctuary is surrounded," came Rick's tired voice over the radio, and I set it down next to me like it was a bomb ready to explode. "We're leaving sharpshooters to maintain watch, and the rest of us are headed back. We'll see you soon. Over."

   They'd done it. They'd actually done it, with sheer determination and planning, the little guys had the man in black trapped inside his castle, and I wasn't sure how to feel about it. It was definitely the right thing to do, but I mourned it just the same, even as the little girl continued to squeal happily, enjoying the remains of the day. 

   Tomorrow would promise to be harder, for sure. Negan wasn't going to just sit around and wait to be set free. He was surely inside the walls of the Sanctuary planning how to exact revenge, and if he was able to take out the herd, he was going to head straight for Rick. For Alexandria.


	52. Your Penance is My Penance

   The sun was beating down relentlessly, and every inch of my body was covered in sweat and dirt. I'd tilled over half of the Hilltop's gardens, and there were two bushels filled with every kind of vegetable imaginable. Carrots, tomatoes, green beans, lettuce. The cucumbers were huge, and I'd been eyeing them all day, nearly tearing into one like a caveman. 

   There was also a wheelbarrow that was overloaded with weeds, proof of a job well-done, and I sat back on my heels to wipe my forehead when a bottle of water appeared in front of my face, cool and covered in condensation.

   "You have to stay hydrated," Jesus said genially as I took it from his hand, sucking down half of it before responding. 

   "I get in the zone, you know?" I panted, setting in the dirt. "It's the easiest thing I've done in months."

   He squatted down next to me, plucking at a stray weed, a tiny thing growing under the tomato plant that I'd been pruning, and he tossed it into the brush that sat just behind him. 

   "I'd believe it."

   "How are you feeling?"

   Jesus had been shot five days before during the siege, and he was still recovering. Rubbing absently at the bandage that poked out of his collar, he shrugged, wincing as he did it. 

   "It itches more than anything. I've opened it back up twice in the middle of the night when I'm asleep. Didn't even realize that I was scratching at it."

   Five very long, very quiet days had passed since we'd set the walkers on the Sanctuary, and there hadn't been a peep since. Rick had set up twelve-hour shifts for the watchers that were keeping an eye on the place, and they hadn't seen more than two people since. Both had been on the roof, observing the hundreds of walkers that were milling around the grounds, a neverending, living dead hive of mindless eating machines that were trying to get inside to fresh meat. 

   There had also been radio silence on the Negan front as well. He hadn't emerged from the factory, and he hadn't acknowledged the hourly requests to surrender, called out to him over a megaphone by whoever was on watch. It was unnerving, to say the least, and I thought about him constantly, wondering if he was okay, and what he was planning.

   I knew for a fact that the Sanctuary would be starting to run low on supplies, due to my very careful inventories. Negan only had about a weeks worth of food and provisions on hand at any given time, preferring to keep the rest of his rations stored at several different spots, all of which were now under Rick's control. He'd doled out half to the other communities, and the rest were taken away to a secret location in case Negan made it out. 

   So, with all of the groups now getting their hard-earned supplies back, none of them were struggling. It was a far different atmosphere when people had enough to live on, an air of hope had taken over, and I knew that I'd done the right thing. Once I knew for sure that Negan was safe and sound, I'd planned on leaving, even though Jesus had tried to convince me to stay.

   "I can't," I told him each time. "I wouldn't be able to live here knowing that Negan was in a cell a few miles away. How could I?"

   "So you're just going to act like he doesn't exist?" he'd asked carefully as I felt my face freeze. I hadn't thought of it like that. 

   "Being around him, walking around all of the time like he wasn't a few feet away from me would be too hard," I admitted, feeling like a loser. "I would want to see him every day, and I wouldn't be allowed to. I wouldn't be able to move on with my life."

   Jesus had stopped asking me after I told him that, and I'd settled in at the Hilltop while we waited, taking it upon myself to help out for something to do, and to earn my keep. It kept me busy, and I'd be so tired by the end of the day that I'd fall into my bed, sleeping like a baby. No nightmares, no tossing and turning as I fretted about every choice I'd ever made in my life. It was blissful.

   "Come on," Jesus said, climbing to his feet. "I'll help you bring these in, and I'll fix you a kickass salad."

   My mouth watered at his words, and I tossed my gloves into the wheelbarrow, hoisting the bushels up on my hips as he disposed of the weeds. 

   After handing over the food to Marianne, who kept track of it, we selected an armful of vegetables, and I followed him to his trailer, bumping into Maggie along the way. Her eyes widened as she saw what we were carrying, and he waved her to come with us. 

   For some silly reason, I'd assumed that pregnancy cravings would be weird, like pickles and ice cream, but I found that all I wanted were these fresh, crunchy vegetables, and I bobbed my foot up and down as Jesus took his sweet time washing and chopping them up. 

   He finally brought over a large bowl of salad, and I served myself a heaping portion, drizzling olive oil over it and adding salt and pepper. When I took the first bite, I let out a moan of satisfaction. At this point in my life, it was almost better than sex, and I shoveled it in as fast I could without choking. 

   As I looked up from my plate, I saw that Jesus was fighting a smile, and I narrowed my eyes. He held up his hands in surrender, pushing the bowl towards me, and I added more to my plate. Heartburn, be damned. 

   While I was otherwise indisposed, Maggie and Jesus chatted about the impending visit from Rick, who wanted to check-in with her. Gregory was assumed to still be at the Sanctuary, and the Hilltop people had unanimously voted her as their leader. She'd been apprehensive after returning from the outposts, exhausted and emotionally drained, but only a day or so later, she'd slid into the role like she was born for it. 

   Maggie was intelligent and thoughtful, weighing her choices with a gravity and seriousness that Gregory never did. She cared about these people, and she thought through every decision that she made. Quite frankly, it was nice to see her take the thoughts of her people into consideration before she decided something, a stark contrast to Negan's iron fist rule. 

   "Earth to Marie!"

   A piece of lettuce hung from my mouth as I looked up to see Maggie grinning. Grunting, I pushed it all of the way in with my fork as she chuckled. 

   "I said, Rick wants to meet with you when he gets here."

   "Me? Why?" I asked after swallowing. 

   "He wants to hear about the residents of the Sanctuary. Who you think might be a good replacement to lead."

   "Oh."

   It wasn't really something that I wanted to think about. I'd assumed my part in this ordeal was over. I'd provided them with all of the information that I knew, and that was the extent of my experience. Rick and the others were far more knowledgeable about leadership and the intricacies of negotiation. 

   I pushed my plate away when I was done, letting out a discreet burp with an apologetic look. Jesus gave me a wide grin, but I felt my cheeks turning pink, anyway. Maggie was completely unbothered, finishing her own meal and wiping her mouth. 

   "Why don't you go get cleaned up and then meet me at the main house?" she offered, clearing my plate for me. I thanked her and Jesus for dinner, heading to my own trailer. Maggie had offered me a room in the house, but I declined. It wasn't my place and I didn't need it. The trailer I'd been given was pretty nice, decorated with comfortable furniture and homey touches. 

   The shower wasn't the best, but it got the job done, and I dressed in a pair of jeans and a tank top, carrying a hoodie with me. It was hot out, but this wasn't the Sanctuary, and I wasn't protected here. I had to be ready for anything, and that meant fighting. So I slapped on extra deodorant and carried on my way, trudging up to the house. 

   Rick had already arrived, and I gave Daryl a small wave as I passed by him. He had a cigarette between his lips, and he grunted a hello. The fact that they'd pinned Negan in the factory didn't seem to improve his mood, and he was one of the few people I worried about. I was afraid that he'd go off book and try to take Negan out. When I'd told Rick about my concerns, he'd promised to talk to him. I'd have to hang my hat on his word.

   Everyone was in the office, and they stopped talking as soon as I walked in, not making me feel any better. Rick got to his feet, giving me his spot, and I sat next to Michonne, who gave my arm a reassuring squeeze. 

   "As of now, there have been no movements and no word from Negan," he began, looking at me directly. "We just stopped to check things out, and they haven't even attempted to start clearing the walkers. Why do you think that is?"

   "Uh, I don't know, but it's not giving me good vibes," I admitted. "Negan is a man of action, and I really don't know what to think."

   "Is there _any_ other way out of there?" he asked, kneeling down in front of me, resting his hands on mine, and I could feel that he was tense. He was looking to me for reassurance, to know that we hadn't all made the biggest mistake of our lives. 

   "I don't know of any," I said, feeling my heart leaping into my throat as I shut my eyes, mentally going over the layout of the Sanctuary. Like I ghost, I roamed the halls in my mind. The main floor, the garage, and then the basement. Rows and rows of cells flew past me, but I didn't see anything out of the ordinary. 

   "No," I muttered, opening my eyes. "I can't think of anything."

   "Okay," he said, edging back to sit on the coffee table. Tara was standing in the corner talking to Rosita, but like some unspoken signal was given, they and the others gathered assembled around the couch, with Daryl being the last to join. "You mentioned that Negan only kept about a week's worth of supplies at the Sanctuary, and we're coming up on day six. That means that something's gotta give here, and if he surrenders, I'd like to know your thoughts on who is trustworthy there. Who you think is capable of stepping in and leading, should we allow the Sanctuary to remain standing."

   "Aren't we getting ahead of ourselves?" Jesus interjected from the corner. "We need to make sure Negan is under control before we start to try to negotiate with the rest of his crew."

   "And we will," Rick assured him, "but I'd like to know a little more about the people that follow him."

   Everyone's attention returned to me, my least favorite thing in the world, and I studied my hands as I spoke. 

   "Well, Simon-" my throat closed up automatically, and I cleared it roughly, "Simon was his number two, and now that he's gone, I'd guess that Gavin, Dave, and Trent have moved up the ranks. Gavin seems to be the most level-headed of all of them, but he's loyal to Negan. You'll have to probably look among the Saviors, and there are a lot that are there just because there were no other options. My friend Charlie," I said, looking up, "he's the one that helped me escape the last time. He's a great guy. He may not want to lead, but anyone that associates with him is good people."

   Thirty minutes later, I handed Rick a list of all of the Sanctuary members that I could recall, noting whether or not they were Saviors next to their names. His eyes rose at the number of people that Negan had, but otherwise didn't comment. 

   Tara broke into Gregory's alcohol stash, handing out cups to everyone, though Maggie and I declined. Everyone was in high spirits, and I sat there watching them, feeling a little bit of hope myself. All around me, conversation and laughter filled the room, and I studed the people that I'd chosen to align myself with, thinking nothing and everything all at once.

   It was already dark when I decided to take my leave, the hard work that I'd put in at the garden starting to catch up with me, and Rick and Michonne accompanied me out into the darkness to make sure I got there all right. She was teasing him about not being able to hold his liquor and I walked beside them, once again struck by their closeness. It was enviable, and I felt yet another pang of longing. 

   Since there was only the moonlight to guide us and they were distracted, none of us noticed that there wasn't another soul in sight as we got closer to the fence, and we were almost to my trailer when a clapping sound rang out, causing Rick to double over, hitting the grass with a cry. 

   My head spun around as Michonne bent over him protectively, scanning the dull blackness for any signs of a threat. 

   "Tick tock, motherfucker," came a singsong voice over a megaphone that I knew as well as my own, sending chills down my spine. "You're gonna die now."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one is short, y'all but I wanted to break it up into two chapters.


	53. Miles Christi, Unite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part two, and shit's getting serious...

   "He's bleeding," Michonne said in a panicked voice as I crouched down next to them, ready to pass out. Negan was here and we were all screwed. Another gun went off, the bullet hitting the grass just by Michonne's foot, spraying us all with dirt, and I let out a frightened yelp as I helped her get Rick upright.

   He let out a pained groan as we began to drag him towards the house, my spine on fire as I felt eyes on me in the dark.

   "You can run, but you can't hide, Rick," Negan taunted under the cover of night. "You'll be dead by morning, you piece of shit."

   "Move," I whispered, urging them to go faster over Rick's swearing objections. When we were feet away Tara opened the door, a little tipsy, smiling as she saw us approach until she noticed the look of agony on Rick's face.

   "What the hell happened?" she wondered as she stepped aside, allowing us to barrel through the entrance, guiding him to Gregory's couch. The front of his shirt was covered in blood, and I stepped back as Maggie rushed forward to assist. Unbuttoning his shirt, we could see that he'd been shot in the side. It was a wound, but survivable, a little more than a flesh graze.

   "Negan shot him," Michonne said, smoothing Rick's hair out of his forehead as he looked down to see the damage. "He said he'd be dead by morning."

   "Negan's here?"

   Daryl came stalking over as Rick nodded, grimacing as he felt the afflicted area. Several people moved all at once, arming themselves as I sunk down to the ground in the corner, wrapping my arms around myself.

  "We need to get to Carson," Maggie said in a strained voice as Carl and Jesus took off up the steps to check the situation outside.

   "It's too dark out, and we can't see anything," Michonne shook her head, getting to her feet. "We have no way to fight back right now, and anyone that steps outside is a target."

   "Just clean it and wrap it up," Rick told her, removing his shirt all of the way. "I'll live."

   Rosita was stone-faced as she passed by me, loading her gun before going to the door to look out and before I could alert anyone, she slipped outside into the darkness.

   "Rosita went out," I called, spurring Tara to take off after her. My mind was racing, a thousand thoughts going through my head. Negan had shot at Rick while he was standing next to me, and I wasn't sure if he hadn't intended on hitting me as well. He no doubt hated me, and I wasn't sure what I was going to do if I even survived this night. There was no way he was going to leave the Hilltop without his vengeance, and I was a part of that.

   "No one else moves until we know what we're dealing with out there," came Rick's command as Michonne returned with some water, soap, clean towels and some bandages that she'd found.

   I got to my feet, stumbling over to help her, as the others began to secure the house, trying to figure out a way to check on the people outside. Jesus and Carl came back down, unable to see anything beyond the fence, though they informed us that none of the guards were patrolling, leading them to believe that they were all dead.

   While Michonne cleaned the gunshot, I cut up half of the towel, arranging the strips in a line so that she could cover up the wound after affixing the bandages. Rick tore open a package of aspirin with his teeth, tossing them back with some of the water while he waited to get cleaned up.

   All the while, Daryl paced incessantly, ratcheting up the tension in the room to where it was palpable. Outside, I could hear the pop of gunshots, and Daryl took off towards the door as Rick struggled to get to his feet. Michonne held him firmly in place to keep him from moving, and I began to feel lightheaded.

   It was too much for me, the weakest link of the group, and I backed away into the corner again, overwhelmed. It caught Maggie's eye, and she approached me slowly, kneeling down so that she was close to my face.

   "Why don't you go into the secret room?" she suggested, ignoring the shaking of my head. "I'll come and get you when it's all over."

   "I can't hide. Not now," I stuttered. "Not while you're all fighting when this is just as much on me."

   "There's nothing 'on' you," she said carefully. "You gave us a chance to fight back, that's all. You did what was right."

   Her twanging voice was calm, and I began to feel like a failure. She was just as much in a delicate condition as I was, yet she had no qualms about standing up tonight when it counted, and I pushed myself forward, hugging her tightly.

   "Where do you keep the guns?" I asked, my breath blowing up little bits of her hair. "We have to keep him outside the fence."

   "Jesus?" Maggie called, but there was no answer, and the two of us broke apart, scanning the room. He wasn't there, and he wasn't in the entryway, either. While she went searching in the other rooms, I headed upstairs, calling his name softly before edging towards one of the bedrooms that looked out over the front of the property.

   It was still dark outside, but I could see movement in the grass just by the wall. Slow, shuffling movement, the kind that walkers made, and I hurried back down to let the others know.

   When I got back to the office, I stopped in my tracks at the sight of Rosita grimacing on the couch next to Rick, holding her leg.

   Tara was using a pair of tweezers, trying to remove a bullet that was lodged in there, getting it almost to the surface of her skin before it would slide back down.

   "Leave it," Rosita hissed, swatting her hand away. "It doesn't matter, anyway."

   Retracting her hand, Tara flung the tool off towards the desk, letting out a screech of anger, going to the bookcase and ripping the leather-bound works off of the wall, creating a huge mess.

   The mood in the room had gone from anger to oppressively silent in the time I was gone, and I waited for someone to tell me what was going on. There was no reason to leave the bullet inside unless it was going to break open a vein or something, but there was barely any blood around the wound.  
  
   "The bullets are tainted," Rosita said, locking eyes with me. Cold, judgemental eyes that seemed to blame me. "They're covered in walker blood."

   It hit me like a tidal wave, the realization of everything that it implied. Everyone who'd been shot, whether the actual hit was fatal or not was doomed to die. The bullets were just a means to bring on the real pain, the virus, or whatever it was that turned humans into the walking dead.

   My breath began to become stagnant as I turned my attention to Rick, who looked resigned to his fate. This couldn't be happening. It was a nightmare that no one could dream up, except for Negan, and my body turned itself automatically, leading me towards the door.

   "Marie, don't!"

   I have no idea who called out to me, but I didn't care. I had to go out there, to try to look him in the eye and see the madness there. I needed to know why he'd go to such inhuman lengths to win, losing all empathy for others. He'd planted the seed of life in me, yet he was willing to maim and torture others, all for the sake of victory, and I couldn't marry it together in my head. I had to see it for myself.

   As soon as my feet hit the bottom step, a hand clasped my mouth shut, sending my heart into my feet, and strong arms had me in an iron grip, dragging me back inside as I fought like a wolverine, twisting and clawing at whatever I could reach, but it was all in vain. I was dumped on the floor of the office, and several pairs of eyes stared down at me.

   "Let me go out there," I demanded, my voice higher than it had ever been before. "I can try to talk to him, get him to stand down."

   Daryl was the one that had dragged me back in, and he stood over me with his arms crossed, one of them scratched to hell by me. "Ya ain't goin' out there, now or ever until this is done."

   "You don't have the right to-"

   "He's right," Rick said in a measured tone. "You'll do no good out there, and who knows how he'll react to see you again."

   That hurt a lot more than it should, and I looked pleadingly at Maggie, but her face was set to 'no' as well. I was outvoted and outnumbered, and there was nothing I could do. I got to my feet with a defeated air, and I went to the kitchen to fetch some water for Rick and Rosita to try and make them more comfortable.

   Wiping away angry tears, I set the bottles on the counter, slamming my hand down to relieve some of my frustration.

   "Whoa, take it easy," Jesus said, and I jumped with a squeak. He was leading a group of about six men through the back door, one of whom was Harlan Carson.

   "Oh, thank the Lord you're okay," I breathed, rushing forward. "You weren't shot out there were you?"

   "No, I was able to sneak my way to Carson's trailer and found all of them huddled inside," he said, gesturing to the men.

   Carson was carrying a bag of supplies, and I waved him forward, not having the heart to tell him what was going on. I'd leave that to the people that knew Rick and Rosita the best.

   Once the explanations had been given, I stood off to the side as he checked their temperatures, offering them some pain medication that he'd somehow managed to grab.

   Rosita took some wordlessly while Rick did not, easing himself from the couch to check the windows.

   "Did you see anything?" he asked, turning to look at Jesus, who shook his head.

   "I took out the ones who'd turned, but it sounds like there's a whole lot more outside the walls now. Other than that, nothing from Negan."

   "Well, we have to assume that every weapon he has is coated with walker blood, and we can't take the risk of anyone else going outside for now. The people in the trailers are going to have to bunker down for as long as possible. If we're lucky, he'll wait it out until daylight."

   "I'm going upstairs to keep watch," Carl said, stalking out of the room.

   Michonne opened her mouth to call him back, but Rick shook his head. The kid was hurting, and he wanted some time alone to process the fact that he was losing his father no matter what, when a thought shot through my head out of nowhere.

   I pushed my way through the crowd to the desk, yanking the drawer open and fishing out the radio. Why in the heck didn't we think about this before?

   "Is anyone out there?" I called into it, turning it up to full volume. "Eugene? Ezekiel?"

   Rick limped forward, leaning on the edge of the desk as I handed it to him, the light in his eyes catching fire as the sound of static crackled through, with everyone else closing ranks around us.

   "All communications need to end with the word 'over'. Over."

   Several people let out a huff of breath at the same time, and I almost burst into hysterical laughter as Rick shushed everyone.

   "Eugene, it's Rick. We're at the Hilltop and we're under attack. Negan's free and he's got this place surrounded. I need you to get whoever you can and as many weapons as possible. You need to reach Ezekiel and get out here before he attacks. Right now he's outside the walls, but I don't know how much longer he's gonna wait. Over."

   Three minutes. Three long, agonizing minutes we waited for Eugene's response, and when he finally answered, he was panting, out of breath.

   "I am currently organizing a group to assist," he said, "and I have reached the esteemed King Ezekiel. They are mounting up and en route as we speak. Please sit tight until the cavalry arrives. Over."

   Tilting my head forward, I rested it on the desk, letting out a praise of thanks to the Lord for his help. It felt divine in that moment, a sign that he wasn't ready to give up on me yet, and I felt a cool hand on my shoulder, forcing my head back up.

   "Good thinking, Marie," Rick said, smiling lightly. I glanced from him to Rosita, who had a sheen of sweat on her face, which was starting to turn pink. He, on the other hand, was still looking peaked, as if he was almost anemic from losing blood. There were none of the tell-tale signs of infection, and I got a faint, minuscule spark of hope.

   Running my hands across his forehead, he gave me a startled look.

   "You don't have a fever," I pointed out, my eyes drifting back over to Rosita. "You're not showing any of the signs that she is."

   "I think-"

   He didn't get to finish his thoughts as a loud boom shook the very foundation of the house, glass breaking and flying throughout the room. We all hit the ground in a panic as two more explosions sounded, rattling my bones and making my hands fly from my head to my stomach.

   " _Ricky_ , come out and play if you're still kickin'," Negan called through the night air. "I brought some friends."

   The air was thick with dust and matter as everyone in the room started to move again. The floor had glass covering every square inch of it as I shuffled towards the window, and in the moonlight, I saw a sight that would haunt my dreams for the rest of my life.

   Through a hole in the fence, hundreds of walkers were streaming into the Hilltop, and we were without any way to keep them from coming into the house.

   In short, we were in a heap of trouble.


	54. A Prayer for the Dying

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know these chapters are shorter than the ones I usually post, but I really want to break up this fight in certain spots. Hang in there!

   "Eugene, we've been breached. The dead are getting through the fence and Negan's covered all of his weapons and bullets in walker blood. We're going to do the best we can to hold them off, but we need you here, now."

   Rick tossed the radio on the desk as everyone in the room took off to find weapons, leaving me with the leader and Rosita, who was trying to keep her eyes open. The virus was affecting her quickly, and I wasn't sure how much longer she had.

   Unable to keep my attention away from the advancing mass of the dead, I felt a blade being pressed into my palm, and I glanced at Rick, who was looking stoic. 

   "We're going to take Rosita upstairs, and I want you to stay with her," he told me.

   "I need to help," I insisted, not wanting to leave them a man short, but he cut me off.

   "Stay with her," he said, turning his body to face me. "Don't let her die alone. You were a nun, right?"

   I nodded silently, knowing I couldn't in good conscience refuse such a request. I would probably be better served to provide her prayer and comfort, something that she deserved.

   "Can I have a gun, just in case?" I asked, and he answered in the affirmative, reverting his gaze to the walkers that were less than a hundred feet away. 

   A bustle of activity burst through the office doors as every man in woman inside Barrington house carried in knives, guns, swords and even fireplace pokers, laying them on any stable surface. 

   With a quick look to Rick, Daryl picked up Rosita, holding her steady as she let out a pained cry, heading towards the steps. I trailed behind, taking one of the guns and watching her legs bounce lightly in his arms, her boots covered in dried mud. 

   He set her down on the bed in the room just off of the steps, kissing her gently on the cheek before running back out to defend the rest of the troops, and I turned on the electric lamp that sat by her head, moving it to the far end of the room when Rosita winced at the light. 

   Below us were the sounds of moaning, gnarling monsters, but I shut the door to try and drown out as much as possible, pulling over a chair to sit by the dying woman on the bed. She was shivering, her skin glazed by the fever, and I set my weapons aside, covering her up with the quilt that lay by her feet. 

   When she looked at me, it was filled with anger, but I didn't think it was because I was there. It was a rage for the end of her life, the circumstances beyond it. 

   "None of that hippy-dippy, 'God is love' bullshit," she said in a froggy voice. "I don't wanna hear that I'll ascend to a higher plane. This fucking sucks."

   "Whatever you want, Rosita. It's your party."

   It brought forth a weak laugh, and I smiled at her. I didn't know her as well as the others because she'd always kept her distance from me. I didn't blame her, of course, because I represented the one thing that had brought her the most pain. I was a living reminder of the loss of Glenn and Abraham, and even Sasha, I suppose. 

   I didn't pray out loud where she could hear me, but I did pray for her. She was a tough woman, one that I even admired. No matter what she lost, she still put one foot in front of the other, day after day, and kept fighting. She was still fighting, even now. I could see it in her eyes as she looked around warily. 

   "What do you need?" I asked as she licked her lips.

   "I'd kill for some water."

   Rising slowly, I went into the adjacent bathroom, turning on the tap and filling a little cup with the cool liquid, bringing it back to her. I had to help her hold her head up, and she sipped at it, letting out a sigh when she was done. Resuming my spot, I watched over her as she began to drowse, resisting the urge to go to the window to see what was happening.

   There had been no gunshots, and I couldn't hear the cries of the walkers anymore. 

   Minutes passed, and I kept watch over the young woman, watching her waste away right before my eyes. She let out a gasp, startling me as she looked around wildly.

   Taking her hand gently, I gave it the smallest of squeezes, and she turned to focus on me, recognizing me after a few seconds. 

   "Can I ask you something?"

   I shrugged and nodded at the same time, making her smile even though she was in pain. "I swear, I'll take it to the grave."

   Huffing out a laugh, I answered back, knowing what it was before she said a word. 

   "Ask away."

   Her fingers twitched in my grip, and I noticed that they were cold, while the rest of her body was completely overheated, tearing my focus away from that to her eyes, which studied me, even though a filmy haze had started to form over them. 

   "How...how can you care about that monster? Knowing the things he's done?"

   I took a deep breath, exhaling slowly as I got my thoughts in order, and when I spoke, I leaned down closer to her face so that she didn't have to strain to hear me. Her faculties were weakening, and it almost felt like a confession to me.

   "Negan is the only man I've ever been with," I said, smiling sadly. "He's the only one I've ever loved, and it took me a long time to see the man that he is underneath. The man that he probably was before everything happened."

   She let out a cough, and I stopped to get her another drink of water. "Go on," she rumbled, waving the glass away.

   "He was married when everything went to hell. His wife had cancer, and she died in the hospital. She, uh, she turned, back when people weren't sure what the heck was going on, and he didn't-he couldn't put her down. He was weak, he thought, and for a long time, he was alone. Everyone that he met, everyone that he found along the way didn't make it. They didn't survive, but he did."

   "It did a number on him," I continued, feeling my heart start to speed up. "It changed him, made him think that other people, really caring about other people was a weakness, that they were going to die anyway. I know you've all seen bad stuff, as much as he has, but it made him hard. It made him afraid to let anyone in, I think. The loss of control that he had at the beginning informed everything that came after."

   "You got in. He let _you_ in."

   It was breathy and low, but I heard it, and I felt my eyes well up. 

   "He did, in a way. He shut me out, hurt me, too. Just like I hurt him by helping you. But he's still in there, the Negan that can love, and be good. He was a teacher, you know."

   Rosita frowned at that, her eyes closing briefly. 

   "I mean, imagine if he harnessed all those brains and that freaking personality for good? Can you just even comprehend what he could do?"

   She didn't say anything for a few minutes, and I brushed her hair away from her face, not drawing any response until a rough few words came out.

   "I still hate him."

   I chuckled, thinking that she was a stone-cold, unapologetic bitch right until the end. It was the last thing she said, falling into a deep slumber, her breaths getting slower and slower until they stopped completely, and even though she didn't want me to, I prayed for her out loud.

   "Lord, see your child home, and bring her peace."

   With a steady hand, I held her head and inserted the knife into her temple, ensuring that she didn't come back, and I covered her completely with the quilt. There would be time to mourn her later, if we survived the night. 

   I turned off the lantern before shutting the door, the sounds flooding back as if I'd left a soundproof room. There were snarls and shouts, and I took off down the steps with the gun in one hand and the knife in the other. What I walked into was nothing less than chaos, with people manning every shattered window on the first level, striking out at every walker that tried to get through the openings. 

   Rick's shirt was covered in blood again, his own, and he was leaning against the wall trying to stay upright. Michonne was slicing through the heads of decayed dead men, sweating profusely, but they just kept coming. 

   I didn't know what to do, how best to help, so I went over to Rick to help him to the couch. He was barely on his feet, and he slung his arm over my shoulder before dropping onto the cushions. 

   Unconcerned with modesty, I ripped open his shirt to assess the damage. The skin was torn open further, blood leaking out at a steady pace, and I grabbed the bottle of water, pouring it over the area while he hissed in pain. There was still a stack of towels on the table and I held one to the area to stem the bleeding. 

   Rick tipped his head back, taking cleansing breaths, and he was sweaty with exertion. One-handed, I felt his forehead again, but he didn't seem to have a fever. I thought that it might just have been regular sweat from trying to fight, and his head snapped up.

   "I don't think you've been infected," I said, changing out the towels. "But if you keep trying to fight the dead, you will. You can't get any blood on you."

   "How can that be? Rosita said all the bullets were coated in walker blood."

   "Yours must not have been, but I'm starting to think that Negan doesn't know that. You may have a guardian angel out there."

   There was a hope in his eyes, and the fear to hope as well. Turning my attention to his side, I patched up the area the best that I could and swiveled my head around to see how everyone else was holding up. They looked beat, but there were fewer walkers crowding up around the windows, which was a good sign, and I left Rick on the couch to edge my way over to Daryl, who was hacking at a really gross deader. 

   I touched him lightly on the arm, and he swung around, nearly decapitating me in the process. I yelped, holding up my hands in protection, and a walker grabbed him by his bicep, yanking him towards the window. Quicker than I ever thought I could, I struck out, stabbing it in the head, and it's hold slackened, gooey, sticky fingers sliding down onto the wood and disappearing with the rest of its body. 

   Standing shoulder to shoulder, with the moonlight casting a soft glow on the undulating group of dead that were still trying to get at us, we kept stabbing at them, but the problem with that was that as the bodies piled up underneath the windows, it allowed the rest of them to get higher access, until they finally started tumbling through the broken glass, spurting blood and other bodily fluids everywhere.

   "Back up!" Daryl shouted, alerting the others, and I slid dangerously on the slick wood, nearly hitting the ground on my butt, easy pickings for the ghouls that were clambering towards us. He caught me at the last second, flinging me backward out of harm's way, but it left him exposed, and four of them surrounded him immediately. 

   A surge of power coursed through me, a rush of adrenaline, and I grabbed one of them by its disintegrating shirt, throwing it down as Michonne rushed over with a cry, severing the top of another's head. As I stabbed the head of the one on the ground, the sounds of machine guns pierced the air, drowning out the growls and grunts of the dead. 

   Reinforcements had arrived, and we had a chance.

   It gave everyone a burst of energy, and we were able to drive the walkers back, retaking the front of the house. Once the herd was down to a few dozen, Jesus stepped out onto the porch to draw them all there, where he and the other men from the Hilltop put them out of their misery. All that was left were a few that were wandering around the trailers, and they took off to round them up despite the ongoing fight outside the walls. 

   The rest of us dropped to the ground where we were, breathing heavily and decidedly out of gas. But the fight wasn't over, not by a long shot, and I was the first to rise, since I'd expended the least amount of energy.

   Rick attempted to get up, but I held up my hand. 

   "If he thinks you're dead, perhaps it should stay that way."

   "I don't run from a fight," he said, reaching for Michonne who helped him up. All I could think at that moment was that he and Negan were two sides of the same coin. Tough, stubborn and entirely infuriating. 

   Flanked by the rest of us, Rick walked slowly and carefully towards the front door, stepping out into the night...only to come face to face with Negan and a handful of his men, all aiming guns at him, including Charlie. 

   Negan was smiling, the angelic look of someone who was truly entranced until his eyes drifted to the right and locked with mine.


	55. Matthew 24:10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "And then many will fall away and betray one another and hate one another."

 

   Everything else fell away for what felt like an eternity. Rick, Daryl, Charlie. They all disappeared as I was sucked into a vacuum, sucked into brown eyes that stared at me reproachfully, filled with anger and hurt. They no longer looked at me lovingly. No, I was the enemy, another person that he had to deal with, to teach a lesson to. To break.

   Slowly, so achingly slowly, he broke eye contact, swinging his head towards Rick, and I struggled to remain standing, feeling a wave of nausea and pain that had nothing to do with the baby.

   Stealing a glance at Charlie, I saw that he gave away nothing. His face was a blank slate as he aimed his gun at Daryl, his finger on the trigger, ready to fire at a second's notice.

   "Well hell, Rick," Negan boomed out over the persistent gunfire that continued behind the walls, "I would've thought you'd be worm food by now, but here you are. Alive and kickin'."

   Rick's posture was hunched over, showing that he was clearly injured, but his gaze didn't waver at all.

   "And you've got my best girl with you. Again."

   "End this, Negan," Rick said tiredly, as if he just wanted to go home. "You know it doesn't have to be like this."

   "Oh, I think it does, asshole," he said, flashing a wide smile. "You came to my home and attempted to kill me. Do you think I'm going to just let that shit slide? Do you really not know me at all?"

   Negan swung his arms in a circle before taking a few steps towards me, turning his chilly rage my way.

   "And then there's you," he chuckled, a mirthless sound. "Here, I thought my Angel was in one of the trailers, but nope. You've been inside this house the entire time helping your new best friend Rick. Or is he your boyfriend now?"

   "Negan-"

   "Shut up!" he shouted, making me flinch as Daryl lunged for him, only to be brought down with the butt end of Negan's gun. "Jesus, my mistake," he taunted, stepping on Daryl's fingers. "This must be your new fella."

   "Once again, you have no idea what the hell you're talking about," Rick interjected, giving Negan a stony look. "She's-"

   "Rick," I hissed warningly, waving my hands at him. He had no right to tell him the truth, because right now, he didn't deserve it. Rick's jaw tightened, and he backed off, but it only inflamed Negan's ire, and he stomped on Daryl's hand, causing the other man to let out a pained grunt.

   I dropped to my knees, pushing his leg to get it off of the probably broken digits, but it was like trying to move a statue. He wouldn't budge until Michonne stepped forward warningly with her sword raised, prompting him and the rest of his men to aim their guns at her.

   His foot moved back, and Daryl straightened up, cradling his swollen hand to his chest.

   "Sorry, Angel," Negan tittered blithely, "but I don't think he'll be running that hand over your body anytime soon."

   I let out a shuddering breath, every word that he said making me want to tear my hair out. This wasn't just taunting, it was an animalistic lashing out from pain.

   "Everyone needs to join these two on their knees," he ordered, cocking his gun, and the rest of the group slowly got down so that we were all looking up at him. He waved his hand towards his men, and they formed a circle around us, enough of them that we each had a gun trained on our heads. Even me.

   "So here's how this shit is going to play out," Negan said, walking around us leisurely, like we were a group of new recruits and he was the drill sergeant. "I'm going to kill Rick. Then Daryl. If anyone argues, if anyone says a word or otherwise moves, I'll keep going down the line. The rest of you are going to the Sanctuary, where you'll be responsible for killing and disposing of every walker that you brought to my house. Then," he continued as if he were checking off a mental list, "your disrespectful, murderous fucking asses are going to rot in a cell while I put your communities back together as I see fit. _My_ men will now be in control. _My_ men will supervise your pathetic groups to find supplies."

   As he rambled on, the sounds outside the walls started to dim, and I fretted if Ezekiel was still alive. There was no way of knowing how many men Negan had brought with him, and what exactly the Kingdom people had walked into, but a snap of fingers in front of my face brought my eyes back to Negan, who was now squatting down in front of me.

   I could see no kindness in his face. No tenderness for me and whatever we had shared. Only bitterness and coldness.

   "Five days," he said quietly, raking his eyes over my face. "Five days I watched this place, and you in it. You were laughing with these people, making a fool of me."

   I chuckled. I couldn't help it, and his eyebrows shot up briefly before tilting down as I wiped the tears from the corners of my cheeks. He was unmoved, and I sat back on my heels, my mood verging on hysteria.

   "Of course that's what you would see, Negan," I said between peals of laughter, ignoring the glare that was reserved for me. "You wouldn't see the peace here, or the fact that I felt safe, like it was before. You _certainly_ didn't see the people that were working together for a common good, or the fact that they were well-fed for once. And you definitely didn't see the life that I begged you to help build. The fact that I wanted you to choose _me_ and this," I gestured to the house behind us, "instead of them," the men surrounding us, "and all of the misery that it brings. No," I sighed, "you didn't see any of that, did you?"

   "Don't you get it?" Rick chimed in, looking at the man in front of him. "This was never the way it had to be. There are groups out there working together to make sure we all have enough, and we can. We can do this if we try. You just have to want to. You have to want to care about more than yourself."

   Negan shook his head at me, and I wasn't sure if he was denying my words or Rick's, and I brushed my fingers along his arm, feeling bereft and empty as he stood back up, stalking over to the Alexandrian leader.

   Before he could say anything, a series of shots rang out over our heads, and I ducked down instinctively, covering my head. My ears were ringing from the close proximity, the sound clanging around in my brain. When I dared to look up, I saw that Charlie and three of the other men had shot at the other Saviors and now had their guns pointed at Negan.

   "Do you get it?" Rick said quietly, getting to his feet with a grunt. "Do you finally see? What you've brought on yourself when you could've been one of us? One of many, working together?"

   From my knees, I saw Negan's shoulders slump lightly, and I knew it was over. It didn't stop Rick from hauling off and clocking him in the face, sending him to the ground on his butt.

   Daryl was next, using his uninjured hand to strike him across the cheekbone several times, leaving him barely conscious.

   Rick pulled him away as I crawled over to Negan, hovering over him protectively, ignoring the way he tried to shuffle away from me. The tired, blue-eyed leader knelt down on the other side of the man I loved, shaking him roughly so that his eyes fluttered open to gaze between us.

   "The reason Marie came to help us, to allow us to get to this point, is because we promised not to kill you. For some Godforsaken reason, she believes in you, and you keep hurting her."

   Negan's face was blank, like he didn't understand...or care.

   "So we're going to honor her wishes. For her. Not you."

   With that, he smacked him on the top of the head with the handle of his knife, knocking him out completely. He left me there beside Negan, gathering up all of the people that were left to dispatch the rest of the Saviors and the walkers that remained.

   My head was blank, a refreshing blackness that couldn't form a single thought or emotion. All I could do was sit on the ground in the smelly, balmy air, looking down at Negan's wrecked face. It had ended not with a bang, but a whimper, though I was grateful. But it also felt incomplete somehow, and I didn't know why.

   It's not like I wanted there to be a bloody war, but I also wasn't sure that Negan truly grasped the reasons why everyone did what they did. Was he able to understand that this was for the benefit of everyone, including the Sanctuary? I didn't know, but it felt like we needed to have a heart-to-heart when he woke up.

   The light was a pale grey when Charlie tapped me on the shoulder, and I tore my eyes away from Negan to blink up at him. He crouched down next to me, his eyes flickering between us.

   "I wasn't going to let him hurt you guys," he said softly, resting his hand on my shoulder. "We planned on stopping him, the rest of us."

   "I know," I muttered, shaking his hand off of me. "I know you did."

   It felt wrong for him to touch me while I was sitting next to Negan, and he must have sensed that, because he scooted back a ways.

   "How did you get out?"

   "The sewers," he said, prompting me to look up at him curiously. "There's a whole mess of them that run underneath the cells, and there's a big entrance in the men's showers down there."

   "Oh."

   "Negan had us scavenging for weapons the day after Rick set the walkers on the Sanctuary, while he watched this place. Once he figured out that you were here, he freaked out. That's when he came up with the plan to coat the bullets with walker blood. Seeing you here, working with them-"

   "So how did Rick not end up infected?" I interrupted, not wanting to believe that the mere sight of me here sent him into a murderous spiral. This was always about more than me, and he and everyone else knew it.

   "I didn't coat my bullets," Charlie assured me with a shaky smile. "Negan knew I was the best one to shoot in the dark, and I made sure to deliver a non-fatal one. We just had to wait it out and make sure that you guys could handle the walkers. If you didn't, we were going to turn on Negan and help you."

   "Thank you, Charlie," I told him sincerely. "You put your life on the line to save us, and I'll never forget it."

   "It was the right thing to do," he said with not a hint of regret. "If we can all live like this," he gestured around to the Hilltop, "minus the destruction, then it was worth it."

   He left me alone there to assist everyone else, and when it was finally time to go, he and a few others picked up Negan's limp body, carrying him towards Rick's truck.  
I scrambled into the back seat, resting his head on my lap, even though I knew that Rick was unhappy about it. I didn't care. It was probably the last time I'd ever get to do it. Red panties or not, I still loved this idiot.

   Even though it made me car sick, I kept my eyes on his face, running my hands through his hair. For some perverse reason, I wanted him to wake up, to know that despite everything, I'd had his best interests at heart. He was still alive, and who knows? Maybe he'd get out of the jail cell someday.

   Weirdly, my stomach felt like it had butterflies in it, as if the little bean in there knew that he was close by, resting right near it. It wasn't nausea, per se, more of a fluttering excitement or nervousness. It made it harder to stay looking down, and with a sigh, I turned my attention towards the front of the truck. Rick was watching me in the rearview mirror, and I gave him a stiff nod to let him know that I was okay.

   All the while, my hands never left Negan's head, absently stroking the hair until I felt his head shift. Looking down, I saw that he was awake, and he was studying me with a cool expression. My fingers froze as I opened my mouth to alert Rick that he was awake, but he shut his eyes again, slowly turning his head so that it was facing forward.

   Before they'd loaded him up, the Alexandrians had tied his wrists and ankles together to assure that he couldn't escape, and I kept watch on his hands to see if he was going to try to get free, but he didn't. He remained perfectly still for the rest of the ride, flinching only when I removed my hand, the skin of my fingertips tingling.

   There were so many things I wanted to say to him, but I wouldn't get the chance for three days. Once as we arrived back at Alexandria, he sat up smoothly, letting out a soft groan as soon as he was upright. When I placed my hand on his arm to comfort him, he shook it off roughly, bringing tears to my eyes.

   I tried to tell myself that it was because this was all new, a seismic change to his way of life. It wouldn't be permanent. In time, he'd see that this was the way it had to be for now, and once he did, all of our problems could be worked through.

   When Rick opened up the door to let him out, he was brandishing a gun, backed up by Michonne.

   "I'm not going to fight you, Rick," he muttered in a low voice. "Just show me to my new fucking home."

   Rick's eyes met mine briefly, and I was left sitting there in the truck as they led him to the house that had the cell in the basement. Once they were out of sight, I scrambled down from the backseat, taking off at a run to Father Gabriel's house. Barely making it to the toilet in time, I threw up violently, shuddering on the bathroom floor in tears. I'd gotten what I wanted, and it left me feeling horrible.

   That feeling accompanied me over the next three days as I wandered around in a funk, my eyes flitting to the house with the cell at every opportunity. I'd packed up all of my meager supplies, intending on heading out to find Sherry and Dwight, and there was only one thing stopping me: Negan.

   I'd whined, begged and pleaded to be able to say my piece to him, but each time, Rick rebuffed me, telling me it wasn't the time. Plus, he'd been much too busy both recovering and dealing with the other communities. He'd taken my recommendation about Charlie to heart, and after meeting with the remaining Savior population and 'weeding out' the undesirables, Charlie had agreed to take over, albeit in a different capacity.

   The Saviors were now a democracy, filtering every decision throughout the community for a final approval. So far, Rick said it was being taken well. The wives were relocated to a lower floor, and Negan's one was currently unoccupied.

   I, meanwhile, was stuck in purgatory, waiting for the emotional clearance to move on and unable to do so until I talked to Negan.

   On the third day, I got my wish.

   Daryl showed up bright and early as I was nursing a bowl of oatmeal, walking in unannounced and plopping down next to me with a grumble.

   "I'm here ta take you to see Negan, then we'll get on the road."

   It was a lot of information to take in all at one time, and my hand started to tremble, making oatmeal flop onto the table. Pushing the rest of the breakfast towards him, I got to my feet, lurching up the steps to my room, looking around wildly. There was nothing in here that I needed. Everything that I'd planned on taking with me had been packed up since we came back to Alexandria, sitting at the door just waiting.

   I just needed a minute to compose myself and think carefully about what I wanted to say. It would likely be the only chance I got for a while, and I wanted to clear the air completely between us.

   Once I was able to take a few steps without wanting to throw up, I went back down the steps where Daryl was finishing up the oatmeal, having cleaned out the rest of the pot that was sitting on the stove. When I moved to clean up the dishes, he put a soft hand on my forearm to stop me.

   "Leave it. I'll do it when I get back."

   All I could manage was a nod, and with my hands twisting together I followed Daryl out the door, my duffel bag over his shoulder. It was still early, but there were a few people out, already beginning their day, and they waved to the both of us as we passed by. None of them were giving me judgmental looks. On the contrary, their faces were open and welcoming, a far cry from my first stay here.

   When we got to the house where Negan was being kept, Daryl opened the door, letting me walk in first. He'd moved in here to keep watch over the prisoner, and he set my bag on the table before pointing to the basement door.

   "Do ya want me ta go down with ya?"

   "No-no. I'm fine," I lied, taking a deep breath and rubbing my hands on my thighs, trying to bring back feeling to them. My body felt oddly numb, and my head was light, giving me a vague high that was sure to come crashing down as soon as I saw Negan.

   The doorknob squealed loudly as I turned it, and with a deep breath, I opened the door, peering down as if there was a monster waiting in the dim light to feast on my flesh. But there was nothing out of the ordinary in the stairwell. Only wooden steps and a mop and bucket sitting on the concrete floor below me.

   Each step I took made my heart thump in my chest until I reached the bottom and it hit a fever pitch, making the roaring in my head cloud my vision.

   Negan was there in the corner, surrounded by bars, laying on a thin mattress looking up at the ceiling.

   "What the fuck do you want?" he asked dully, his eyes on a fixed point above him, and I moved forward with shuffling steps until I was inches from the bars, curling my hands around the cool metal to steady myself.

   "I thought we should talk."

   "Talk? About what?" he laughed, rolling over to face the wall. "What do you possibly think you have to say that will change what you've done?"

   Leave it to freaking Negan to make me mad. The base of my skull started to tingle, making its way to the top of my head, and I dragged my nails along the metal, making a tinny screeching sound.

   "What _I've_ done? You mean, keeping your sorry butt alive when everyone wanted you dead?"

   He exploded off of the bed before I could react, and his hand snaked through the bars, gripping the back of my neck. It wasn't enough to hurt me, but I stared at him, terrified by both the gesture and the malevolence in his eyes.

   "And why is that, Marie? Is it because you plotted behind my back to destroy everything I built?"

   He wanted me to fight back. I knew this man too well to give him what he wanted. He needed me to claw at him, to turn this into a knock-down drag-out situation, and I wasn't doing it. I couldn't.

   "You chose this over me," I said in a whispered voice. "All I ever wanted was you. Not the Sanctuary, not the perks of living on the top floor. Just you. And you threw it away without a second thought. Because you cared more about having power over these people than what was right."

   The hand that was holding me shoved me back roughly, sending me stumbling into the wall.

   "I didn't come here to fight with you," I said in a strangled voice, the ghost of my father breathing down my neck. He isn't your father. He might be worse. "I came here to tell you that-"

   "I fucked the girl from the kitchen," he said over his shoulder, pausing as I sucked in my breath. "That's whose panties you found."

   He started to laugh, and it sent a chill down my spine, my mouth filling with saliva. He was hurting me more with his words than with his hands, and he was laughing about it.

   "I thought it would be like fucking you," he murmured, turning to face me. He was a stranger now, not even the man in black. He was so far beyond that that I couldn't look him in the eye. "You know, another plain, boring lay. And it was, in a way. She's just as shitty as you in bed."

   Every word he said was so far beyond hurtful that there were no words to describe it. It was salt in a wound, a mortal damaging of my already fragile ego, and I lunged towards him, scraping him across the cheek with my nails.

   My wrist throbbed angrily as he wrenched it back with his fingers, yanking me so that I was flush with the bars. "You never compared to Carolyn, Marie. I admit, I was infatuated with you for a while, but hell, sweetheart, you won't be the one I'm thinking about while I waste away in here. You'll be nothing more than a distant memory to me. A mistake that I never should've made."

   Negan's eyes shut as I tried in vain to pull myself free, and he dragged my closed fist down his chest, resting it against his groin as hot tears spilled down my cheeks. "Feel that?" he taunted me in a sultry voice. "That's just from me thinking about her right now. Bouncing on my cock, those huge tits hovering just above my mouth. Mmmhmm," he moaned, forcing me to feel the growing hardness in his pants.

   He released me suddenly, allowing me to cover my face with my hands to sob uncontrollably.

   "You can fuck off with your bullshit, _Sister_. You're not even worth my masturbation fantasies anymore. Run along and join your new friends and don't ever set foot down here again. You hear me? Because next time, I won't be as polite."

   Even now, I don't remember walking up the steps. I barely remember Daryl taking me by the shoulders, not protesting as I buried my face in his chest to cry. I do recall that he left me upstairs a few seconds later, flying down the steps. I couldn't find it in me then to care if he beat the crap out of Negan, and he reappeared minutes later stonefaced and shaking his good hand. I'd spent only a few minutes with Negan, and he'd destroyed me thoroughly

   "Are ya ready now?"

   Nodding once, I took a deep breath and wiped the sticky tears from my face, once again following behind him woodenly. I'd already shown Daryl on the map where I needed to go, and he held the door open for me, shutting it quietly as I stared out the window in a daze. I was nothing. I meant nothing.

   We were on the road for over an hour before Daryl spoke, and it shocked the hell out of me.

   "Did ya tell him about the baby?"

   "No," I said in a broken voice. "I don't ever want him to know."

   He didn't get any claim over this child, and I was darned sure never going to see him again. That's what he wanted, and I was going to make sure I honored that.

    _You don't compare to Carolyn._

   The words were a neverending echo in my head.

    _I fucked the girl from the kitchen. It was as boring as fucking you_.

   The trees were a blur, the road was a grey snake carrying us along as I sat lost in my sadness and hurt. I was between worlds right now, adrift in the middle of nowhere. Me and the baby. It was the only thing that belonged to me outright, and I rubbed my stomach, praying for its safety. It was all I had to cling to.

   "Can ya open the map?" Daryl asked when entered into a large, wooded expanse on the highway, surrounded seemingly from all sides by trees, all leafy and green. I'd been so distracted that I hadn't even noticed how close we were getting.

   Unfolding the map, I scanned it quickly. We were on the Lee Highway, looping our way through the Shenandoah Mountain. I'd been here once on a field trip in junior high, and we'd spent two days camping and hiking on trails here. It was enough to distract me from the emotional assassination I'd been party to, and I scanned the edge of the road for any white marks, ones that Sherry said they'd leave for me.

   Sure enough, as we passed the other side of the ridge, on the sign for the Thornton Gap Entrance Station, there was a white square painted on the stones that made up the outside of the sign, sending me into a mini-fit. "There!" I pointed to it as Daryl grunted in the affirmative. We were on the right track, and I could feel in my soul that she was close by.

   Daryl slowed down the truck so that we could see any others, and on one of the mile markers was another one, barely visible on the side of it. It gave me a sorely needed sense of hope, and I found myself gripping his arm as he drove, though he didn't seem to mind. Every few miles, markers bore the same squares until we passed through the range to find a battered sign marking the Shadow Mountain Escape, a group of cabins that were set back in a park-like setting overlooking the mountains.

   The tiny road that turned off of the highway was blocked by a fence and gate, one that had Sherry's white squares on them, and Daryl pulled up all the way to the wire, shutting off the truck. We sat there for a few minutes, waiting for any sign of life, but no one and nothing appeared.

   A gun was placed in my hand, and we both stepped out warily, looking around for signs of trouble. Moving like a cat, Daryl scaled the wooden post easily, slipping behind the barbed wire fence and unlocking the latch, letting the gate swing open so that I could slide through.

   The lane was shaded by rustling trees, the breeze a few degrees cooler now that we were in the shade, and I have to admit that I didn't pay as much attention to my surroundings as Daryl did. I was lost in thought, my mind running over the changes that had occurred in my life over the past few months.

   From the rectory to the Sanctuary and beyond, I was no longer the woman that I once was, and I felt ambivalent about it. An unmarried mother-to-be, I walked towards my hopeful future, praying that there was something at the end of the lane.

   Indeed there was. To be more precise, there _she_ was. Perched on the second-floor deck of a large log cabin with a pair of binoculars covering her face and a gun laying on the wood rail, I came to an abrupt stop when I saw her. Even from the distance, I could see the strap of them shaking, and when she lowered them, I took off at a run, straight towards the house.

   Sherry was rushing towards me, crying, and I tackled her, dropping my gun and bringing both of us to the ground. I wept in joy and I wept in pain, having finally reached the one person I knew would never hurt me.

   "Marie," she sobbed, clinging to me so tightly that my neck started to throb with the lack of blood flow.

   "I'm here," I cried right back. "I made it."

   I would've been happy to stay on the ground forever, but Dwight came bounding around the corner and Daryl made a beeline for him with his fist cocked.

   Would this crap never end?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know...I know. Forgive me.


	56. In the Garden of Eden

   This was always my favorite time of day, late afternoon. The sticky heat of the summer was just a bit more tolerable, here in the woods along the stream that ran along the back of the property, and I didn't mind when Sable wanted to stop to drink, her tail twitching lazily behind her.

   Her head was bent down low, her lips nibbling at the water, so I slid off her back, patting her rump as I came around. I didn't want to startle her, so I glided up next to her, dipping my hands in the cool water to splash my face and neck. So refreshing and rejuvenating, that I pulled out an apple from my sack that hung on the saddle, biting off a huge chunk for myself and giving the rest to my horse.

   Yes, I had a horse now. One of my own that I cared for, fed, brushed and even helped shod. I did it all, a real Dr. Doolittle, an Annie Oakley in the making. And she seemed to love me, funnily enough. Whenever she saw me coming towards the barn, I could hear her snort and whinny. Sable was a mare, with rich black coloring and a reddish-black mane.

   We'd found her and a few others running wild over a year ago, and it had taken over a month to catch them. We'd nearly lost one of them to walkers, but with Dwight's great crossbow skills, we'd saved him in the nick of time.

   The grounds had already been equipped with a barn, and it was just a question of getting them in there and settled. From there, it had taken months to get some control over them. None of us had any equine experience, but we did our best, getting them used to bridles and saddles.

   It was my Sable who'd been the first to let us ride, and as someone who'd never done it before, it was both terrifying and glorious. At first, I'd just ride her around the fenced in area of our homes, but as she and I grew more comfortable with each other, we began to get bolder, jumping the fence and making our way around the trails and creeks that surrounded us.

   When I rode, I felt a peace unlike any other. Well, like one other, but this was my time for myself. Still, it had its purpose, and that purpose was currently strung up across the horse's back. I'd cleared out all of the traps we'd set every other day, and four fat rabbits were laying there, just ready to be eaten. I just had one other thing I wanted to do, so I climbed back up, squeezing Sable's sides gently and she trotted off, knowing instinctively where I wanted her to go.

   There was a meadow on the back of our grounds, something out of a fairy tale. Sweet, green grass, dotted with wildflowers and under the watchful eye of the mountain range. On a day like today, with azure blue skies and fluffy wisps of clouds, it was hard to believe we weren't in heaven.

   Heavenly. It was the exact right term to describe how it felt to be here, and I let Sable run free, watching as she took off towards the middle of the open areas, dancing happily before settling down to feed on the pungent grass. Though I came to this particular spot for many reasons, my main one was for the berries.

   Raspberry, blueberry and blackberry bushes grew wild here, and though Dwight had offered to transplant them back near the cabins, I'd wanted to leave them right where they sat. They were undisturbed, bathed in sunlight, and something about having them here made them taste extra sweet. Weird, I know, but it's true. We had a few bushes closer to the houses, but they just didn't taste as good. There was something about these babies, all sun-warm and irresistible.

   I'd brought a covered bucket, not a large one, and I began to pluck the ripe fruit, tossing one into my mouth for every two I picked. Keeping one eye on my horse, I worked quickly, wanting to get as many as I could before the sun went down for the day. I needed to get home and get started on dinner, as everyone would be waiting. It was my night to cook, and the rabbits weren't going to skin themselves.

   Whistling lightly, I covered up the berries and smirked happily to myself when I heard the dry hoofbeats approaching. "Who's the best girl?" I cooed as she snorted in my face. I'd kept out a few berries, holding them in front of her mouth, and Sable scooped them up with her soft lips, chewing them as I mounted up, sending her back towards home.

   Our area was pretty clear of walkers, though once in a while a random one found its way inside the barbed-wire fences. Today was one of those days, and as we got closer to the barn, we came across one stumbling along the well-worn path Sable and I had made over the past year.

   Now, I'm as far from a bad-ass as anyone I know, but I've gotten pretty darn good with the scythe that Dwight made for me. It fit my hands perfectly, and I stretched it out, murmuring to the horse to keep steady, slicing the top of its head off as we galloped past it. The horses were skittish around the walkers, obviously, so all of us had to remain calm and in control when we got near them.

   "Good girl," I reassured her, tucking the weapon onto my back before patting her neck. "We're almost home."

   At that, her ears pricked up, and she took over, leading us back towards the barn. We had visitors waiting for us when we emerged from the woods, leaning against the fence. One looked happy but tired, and the other...well, there were no words to describe her beauty.

   "Mama!"

   I waved, bringing Sable to a slow gait as we got closer, loving the smile on chubby cheeks and the sparkle in eyes that were the same color green as my own.

   "Mama, hose," she chirped, squirming in Sherry's arms.

   "Yes, mama's on the horse," Sherry said indulgently, kissing her on the cheek. "Nora's been waiting for you," she said in mock consternation.

   I brought Sable to a stop next to them, and Nora reached up for me with an urgent whimper. This was our routine, and she always wanted to ride with me to put the horse away for the evening.

   Sherry held her up to me, and I set Nora on the saddle in front of me, wrapping my arm securely around her as Sable waited patiently. As gentle as she was, she seemed even more so when Nora was around. My baby girl leaned forward, wrapping her fingers in Sable's mane, babbling happily. "Hose, mama. Hose."

   Clicking my tongue, I kissed the top of her head and Sable began a slow walk towards the barn where Dwight was leaning against the side of it, watching us with a grin. In all the time I'd known him, I'd never seen him as at peace and as happy as he was now. It was like experiencing an entirely different person. Gone were the guarded expressions and downtrodden nature. It had all been replaced with a serenity and confidence, one that made his scars almost invisible, at least to me.

   I was sure he'd probably say the same about me. The past two years had brought me a security that I'd never known was possible on that day I'd first arrived here, pregnant and heartbroken. I'd been on the ground in Sherry's arms when Daryl had taken off towards Dwight, knocking him down with a punch.

   Both Sherry and I had looked on in shock as Dwight lay on his back, his hands up defensively, Daryl straddling him with his fist cocked.

   "Ya left me in the woods ta die," he snarled, and Dwight nodded meekly.

   "We were scared, man," he mumbled, looking towards Sherry, who extracted herself from my grip, going to the aid of her husband. "We left Negan for good a few months ago."

   When I'd made it upright, Daryl had let go of him, stalking back over to me.

   "I didn't know it was them," he spat in my direction, starting back towards the truck. I trailed behind him until we were out of sight, then I jerked him to a stop.

   "They're my friends. They were as trapped as you were," I said breathlessly, forcing him to look at me. "I helped them get away, just like I tried to help you."

   He glared at me for a moment, suddenly giving up all pretense of a fight as I stood there perplexed.

   "You have to let go of this anger, Daryl," I told him softly. "It's over now. It's all over."

   "Take care of yourself, Marie," he said gruffly, loping off towards the truck. "I'll see ya."

   And I did. Daryl was back two weeks later with bushels of vegetables, and though he shot Dwight a dirty look, nothing else was ever said.

   My reveries were interrupted by a squeal of delight as we ducked into the barn, Sable going immediately to the grooming spot outside her stall. Nora was running the rich, dark hairs of her mane through her tubby little fingers, letting out an occasional 'ooh' while Dwight removed the rabbits and the berries, setting them aside until I handed the baby over to him.

   "Good day?" he asked, ducking from Nora's playful slaps to his cheek.

   "Only one walker," I informed him as I dropped to the ground with a huff and hooking Sable to the side of her stall to brush her down.

   Dwight let Nora down as well, and she toddled after him, babbling nonsensically while he got busy skinning the rabbits I'd brought back. My little girl was completely at home here, having grown up around all of these animals, and she clung to the side of his work table until he hoisted her up, setting her on a bale of hay to watch.

   We'd been lucky enough to find an untouched feed store a few miles away, and there were literally hundreds of pounds of honeyed oats and food for the animals we had. After mucking out her stall, I fed Sable, stopping to collect Nora before heading towards the house.

   There were four cabins here along with the main house, and Nora and I lived in the one closest to the front. It was beautiful and quaint, more than I could've ever wished for, now or before. This property had been a getaway, the cabins used for vacationing couples, and the one I lived in had two bedrooms, though Nora mostly slept with me.

   The original owners had named it the Dragonfly cabin, and it was a timber-framed home that would've fit right in with Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, if not for the modern touches like the appliances and whatnot. Exposed wood beams, wood and stone floors, tiny little nooks that lent themselves well for curling up and reading. It was perfect, but my favorite parts were the stone patio and the second-floor deck.

   Once Nora would go to bed for the night, I'd sit out there with a glass of wine and my thoughts, listening to the forest sounds and the gentle sway of the breeze. Dwight had found me some solar fairy lights, and between the twinkling of them and the stars in the sky, I was home. It was all I had ever wanted or needed, save one thing.

   I never thought his name anymore, though he was nearly always in my mind. It was hard for him to not be, seeing as Nora looked so much like him. Her eyes were green like mine, of course, and her hair wasn't quite black. It was dark, but with hints of red that would sparkle in the sunlight. He was in everything else, though, from the dimples in her cheeks to the looks she'd make. She was a happy, outgoing little thing, and she didn't get the confidence from me, that was for sure. It was all him. His fingerprints were all over her, even though he knew nothing about her.

   I'd named her after my mother, giving her my name as her middle. She was a gift from God, my Nora, my little light, and I cherished her completely. My world revolved around her, though I still missed the adult companionship I'd once known. It's not like I had many suitors to choose from, what with the small group that we'd built here, but I still longed for the intimacy and support of having a partner.

   It had never been my intention for Nora to grow up without a father like I had, but the choice had been taken away from me. By him. And it's not like she didn't have males in her life to help guide her and care for her. Dwight was over the moon in love with her, and she with him. But Sherry was due with their own child in a few months, and he'd be busy with him or her soon.

   Warner was equally as good with Nora, the joking, good-time uncle that would feed her sweets when I wasn't looking or let her run wild, coating herself in mud and muck. God knows he wasn't going to be the one to clean up after her. Even Daryl was a huge part of her life, scooping her up as soon as he arrived and doting on her as if she had nothing to do with Negan.

   'Day', she called him, and his eyes would light up the second he saw her on his deliveries. They'd walk around hand in hand through the gardens, or sit on the deck, rocking together as she played with the long strands of his hair.

   But none of them were _him_. None of them were her father, who still didn't know of her existence. Daryl assured me of that every time he came to visit. I hadn't stepped foot in Alexandria for well over a year, too uncomfortable the last few times I was there.

   There was a window in Negan's cell, and I'd felt his eyes, watching me. I'd turned around to see him, the top of his head and those brown irises staring me down as I stood there talking to Rick. It had made me so upset that I'd fled like a coward, hiding as I shook uncontrollably, shamed that he'd still had such an effect on me.

   Since then, Rick had insisted on bringing us our supplies for trade, offering me a break from the situation. I didn't mind, and I don't think Daryl did, either. He'd managed to patch up his problems with Dwight, and he sometimes stayed a day or two, hunting with the other man and working around our property, fixing up pumps that needed to be repaired or helping with the horses.

   Once or twice, I'd almost asked him if he'd just rather stay here, but I chickened out for some reason. I didn't want him to get the wrong idea. I liked Daryl, but there would never be anything there between the two of us, not that I assumed he liked me in that way. I was just awkward when it came to that type of thing, like I'd always been.

  When I got to Dragonfly, Sherry was already inside, sitting with a cup of tea and rubbing her back. She was seven months along, and having a rough go of it lately, experiencing a lot of back pain. Still, she was a trouper, taking care of Nora during the day when I went out to scavenge or work around the property. Nora adored her and thought of her as an aunt, if not a surrogate mother. I didn't mind. In fact, I encouraged it, because I wanted her to grow up with love and family, even this self-created one.

   "Where's everyone else?" I asked as I set the baby down, not surprised when she went immediately to Sherry, crawling up on her lap to cuddle. Sherry never minded, wrapping her arms around my daughter, rocking her lightly.

   "Warner and Dave are west, checking on that giant herd, and Debbie and Kale are finishing the garden. I think," she yawned, "that Jeff and Sue are east, setting more traps."

   There was a herd several miles away that seemed to defy all explanation. Thousands of walkers had somehow come together, forming the largest group that anyone had ever encountered. They were currently congregating in a valley, moving around aimlessly in circles, but there was no telling when or if they were going to head our way. We sent out watchers every few days to keep tabs on them and give us time to pack up and leave, should the situation warrant it.

   "Should we expect everyone back for dinner?"

   "Probably," Sherry replied, humming lightly as Nora rested her head on her chest. Sighing under my breath, I got to work, cutting vegetables and getting dinner ready. One night a week, each of us made dinner, preparing enough food for the whole group, and tonight was my turn.

   Rabbit stew was my specialty, and by specialty, I meant that it was _all_ I ever made. We had an abundance of meat from our traps, and it was easy enough to make. It wasn't my favorite by far, but I was hard-pressed to find a cow nowadays and enjoy one of my beloved hamburgers.

   As soon as everything was simmering on the stove, I scooped up my girl and carried her into the living room, plopping down on the floor to play with her while Sherry stretched out on the couch to rest. No more than ten minutes after we starting building a Duplo house, Nora crawled over to the bookcase, pulling herself up onto her tiptoes to reach for the cd player.

   "Oh, come on, baby," I groaned, ignoring Sherry's chuckle in the background. "Mama's tired."

   "Mama," she whined, nearly toppling backward as she tried to get higher. "Mama, dan."

   "Mama doesn't want to dance," I grumbled, getting to my feet anyway. "And mama's going to have a serious talk with Uncle Dwight for even playing you this moronic song."

   Once I popped the record in, Nora reached up for me, and I scooped her up into my arms to rap along. Other kids her age liked Mary Had a Little Lamb or Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. Not mine, though. Nope, she wanted to hear the Humpty Dance.

    _"All right!_

_Stop whatcha doin'_

_'Cause I'm about to ruin_

_The image and the style that ya used to"_

   Thankful that Children's Services no longer existed, I bopped around the room, busting out the lyrics as Nora screeched in happiness, hanging onto my cheeks as I exaggerated the words, widening my eyes comically. If it was up to her, I'd do this every waking hour of the day.

    _"I like to rhyme_

_I like my beats funky_

_I'm spunky. I like my oatmeal lumpy_

_I'm sick wit dis, straight gangsta mack"_

   "You're the least gangsta person left alive," Dwight snorted as he sat down on the couch, placing Sherry's legs on his lap and rubbing her feet. I flipped him the finger behind Nora's back, bouncing her up and down.

   "And you're lucky that she can't understand these lyrics," I sniped at him as Sherry grinned at me. The song thankfully died out, and I carried Nora in to check on dinner, finding it cooking nicely.

   A half-hour later, the rest of our group came staggering in, each looking like they needed at least full meal and a good nights sleep. Warner, with his inky black hair and impish smile was the first to arrive, taking the head of the table and holding his knife and fork in each fist like he was at some medieval banquet, earning himself a gentle slap to the back of his head.

   Dave followed immediately behind him, his dark skin gleaming with sweat as he wiped at his forehead with a handkerchief. Wiggling his fingers at Nora, he gave me a toothy grin, kissing me on the cheek before sitting down. Dave was the youngest of all of us, just a shade past twenty-one. He and Warner had gone to school together, though a few years apart, and had been together since the beginning.

   Debbie and Kale arrived right after, arguing like they usually did. Twins in their early thirties, they both had white-blonde hair and pale blue eyes. Secretly they reminded me of those kids from the Village of the Damned, with their sometimes telepathic ability to read each other's minds and similar looks. I chalked it up to being a twin thing, but still...

   Debbie scraped her chair, sitting down roughly. "You're pulling them too early," she snapped at her brother. "They need at least another week on the vine."

   "They ripen anyway, _Debbie_ ," Kale shot back. "They ripen just fine on the windowsill."

   "Hi, guys," I said loudly, trying to distract them. Both of them blinked, looking at me with their pale eyes before smiling.

   "Rabbit stew?" Debbie guessed with a chuckle, and I winked at her.

   "You know me too well," I teased as Jeff and Sue came in holding hands. They were the oldest people in our group, both in their sixties, though you wouldn't know it by looking at them. They'd been farmers, working the land for a long time, and it kept them in good shape. Jeff was also the handiest one here, keeping the tractors running and all of us supplied in gas.

   We only used the cars when needed, preferring horseback for short trips, and so far we'd conserved our resources nicely.

   Once everyone was crowded around the table, I put Nora in her high chair and served dinner. The conversation was lively, with everyone chiming in about their day. The gardens were good, the traps were set for more meat, and I'd found enough berries to satisfy even Dwight's sweet tooth. The only bad thing was the herd. They'd started to move, and were currently at the edge of the valley, heading our way.

   "Should we try to lead them away?" Warner asked, shoving a spoonful of stew into his mouth, chewing openly as I grimaced at him. "What?" he smiled. "Just because it's not seafood doesn't mean it's not _see food_." He stuck out his tongue, making me gag.

   "Amazing that the fifteen-month-old is more mature than you," Sherry muttered, smacking him on the back of the head.

   The alarm beeped halfway through dinner, alerting us that someone was at the gates, and Dwight got up immediately to check the camera. Each house was hooked up to the system, and if we turned on the tv, we had a view of every part of the outer perimeter where the cameras were set. He flipped it on, announcing that it was Daryl.

   He and Warner left to go let him in, and I got up to fix another plate for him, wondering nervously why he was here so late in the day. Hopefully, nothing bad had happened. Aside from a few skirmishes with some rogue groups, all of our lives had been peaceful since...the incident.

   They were back a short time later, talking heatedly about the herd that was probably on its way, Dwight's hands gesturing wildly.

   Giving Daryl a smile, I vacated my seat, forcing him to sit down after he'd grunted hello to everyone.

   "If we lead them west, they'll probably just wander off," Warner was arguing, prompting Daryl to shake his head before digging into the stew.

   "Nah," he said in his deep, gruff drawl. "If ya lose sight of them, there's no tellin' that they won't swing around and reappear from down south. We should all just work together ta lead them to the Potomac or somethin'."

   Jeff agreed, saying that the river was deep enough to probably wash them all away, and the conversation remained on that topic while I tuned them out, feeding Nora bits of potato and rabbit. She, unlike me, seemed to love the meat, grasping it with her fingers and shoving it into her mouth, pointing at Daryl between bites.

   "Day," she chirped, making him smile. There was another person at the table smiling, and her cheeks were turning pink. Debbie was harboring a secret crush on Daryl, and he was oblivious. For someone so sharp and able to pick up on everything else, he had no idea. He never seemed to notice the furtive looks she sent his way or the fact that she blushed whenever he was around.

  I wasn't jealous, but I found myself a little bitter. Love seemed to be flourishing around me, not that I didn't want other people to be happy. I'd been happy once. And I was still happy. I had a beautiful little girl that was healthy, and a family that was thriving. I'd be a fool to not be grateful. But it didn't change the fact that I missed having someone to hold. Someone to hold me at night, when I only had my thoughts and memories to keep me company.

    _Stop it, Marie. You're blessed_.

   After filling their bellies, everyone took off, though Debbie lingered the longest, leaving me with all of the dishes to clean up. The perks of cooking, I guess. Oh, well. At least it's only one night per week.

   While Nora sat in her chair, making a mess with the berries, Daryl and I cleaned up, working together to get the kitchen back in order, and then he followed me upstairs, sitting on the toilet while I bathed my girl.

   She splashed happily, tossing bubbles at 'Day' as he pretended to catch them, and I washed her hair while he distracted her. I'd never put it together before, but Nora had the same dimple on her butt that Negan did, and I felt my eyes tear up, something that I hadn't done in a long time, letting out a deep breath.

   "Somethin' wrong?" Daryl asked, and I shook my head, blinking rapidly.

   "Just got a bubble in my eye. All good."

   He got out a towel, and I lifted my squirming bundle out of the tub, setting her on the bath mat to dry her quickly. It was already dark, and she was getting tired, so I dressed her in her jammies, setting her on my bed as I combed through her hair, making it look presentable. It was still fine, this baby hair of hers, and I took a sniff, smiling at her clean smell.

   Daryl hovered in the doorway until I waved him in, and he joined us on the bed while I read her a story, setting her in the middle of the bed. She was out twenty minutes later, and I propped up my remaining pillows around her body, walking silently out and down the steps to the living room.

   There was a chess board in the corner of the room, and we'd been playing a game for over two months, neither one able to make any headway. Daryl headed straight over, studying the board as if to make sure I hadn't cheated, and I got him a glass of whiskey, handing it to him with a roll of my eyes. I wasn't a cheater, and I playfully resented the implication.

   "Just move, man," I urged him, taking my usual spot. "I'm going to beat you no matter what you do."

   I hadn't bested him in a game yet, but that didn't stop my trash talking, and he gave me a lopsided smirk before sitting down. His hands tapped nervously on the glass, and I began to feel a fluttering sensation in my chest. This wasn't just a social call, I could feel it in my bones. He had something to tell me, and he was struggling with it.

   "Whatever it is, you can tell me," I finally said, reaching over to stop him from rattling his fingers. It was driving me crazy, ratcheting up the tension in the room.

   "I was gonna tell ya before, but..." he trailed off, and my cheeks started to burn.

   "What?"

   Daryl sat back, sighing loudly.

   "I just thought ya should know that...Negan's out of the cell."

   "..."

   "He's been out for a month."

  _What in the holy hell?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, you get two chapters in two days. After the hell of the last one, how could I not post a more uplifting one? I do that because I love you all. :)


	57. What the Devil Knows

   "What? How?" I stammered, my mind completely shutting down. "Did he escape? How, Daryl? _How_?"

   "Calm down," he said carefully.

   Calm down? Calm down, he says?

   "Daryl," I gasped, getting up unsteadily and lurching for the door to go out onto the patio, feeling the beginnings of a breakdown approaching. He followed behind me, gripping his glass.

   "Marie, it's okay," he said, guiding me into one of the chairs. "He's not on the loose or nothin'. He's allowed out of his cell during the day, but he still goes back in at night."

   All of the progress I'd made as a person in the last two years was slowly slipping away as I felt the urge to run. I wanted nothing more than to bundle up my daughter and disappear into the night, and I wasn't sure why.

   "I thought this was what ya wanted," Daryl mumbled, taking the seat next to me as I stared off blindly into the night. "Ya always said that he could be redeemed, didn't ya?"

   "Why now?" I asked in a stranged voice, fighting the conflicting emotions that were battling for control of my body as I avoided his query. "Why would Rick suddenly decide that he could be trusted?"

   "Because of Carl."

   "Carl?" What did Carl have to do with any of this?

   "Yeah," he said, taking me by the hand and holding it securely in both of his. "He and Carl have bonded, I guess, over the last couple of years."

   "And Rick was okay with that," I observed, not really making it a question. There was a multitude of inquiries battering around in my brain, but the only face that I could see was Negan's, battered and cold as he brutally rebuffed me that day in the cell. My short-circuiting brain failed to bring up any other image. Not of him hovering above me with loving eyes, or looking at me with a smile. Only the horrible image of him telling me that I was nothing to him, not even worth...

   "Not at first, no. But over the last few months, Rick spent time with that dick himself. Had a few heart-ta-hearts."

   "So...what? Negan just walks around town now?"

   "He works on the walls, keepin' them repaired. The gardens, too. He ain't allowed to have a weapon, or go on runs or anything, though."

   "Are you-" I stopped, clearing my throat, "are you okay with it, Daryl?"

   His hand twitched around mine, and I turned to look at him, to get the truth from his expression, because no matter what words came out of his mouth, his face couldn't lie. What I saw there scared me more than the bomb he'd just dropped on me.

   "I don't see any of that man that was there before," he said in a careful voice. "I ain't ever gonna be his friend, but he's different. Humbled, I guess would be the word. When he came outta the cell and saw that we were thrivin' without him around, it was a shock ta him. Plus," he grinned, "I got one last good punch in."

   I wanted to smile back, but I couldn't. Daryl had come here today and rocked my world, and I wasn't sure I was even thinking straight. He didn't press me for a while, and we both settled back into our chairs, my head leaning back so that I could stare up at the stars. He didn't let go of my hand though, perhaps thinking that I needed something to tether me to the earth, and he was right.

   "I did want him to get out one day," I admitted after a long silence, the stars blurring in my vision as I blinked them away. "I hoped that he'd see the light, so to speak, but now..."

   "Nora?" he guessed, and I felt my chin start to tremble. Nora. Our daughter, my reason for living, who had never known him, and he knew nothing of her. One of Daryl's hands was replaced by his glass, and he pushed it towards me, urging me to take a drink.

   One small sip made me sputter and cough, and I sat back as the liquid burned in my stomach, eventually leaving me with a warm buzz.

   "Does he know about her?"

   "No. He just knows that you're alive and happy."

   "Why the heck does he even care?"

   I heard, rather than saw Daryl shift in his seat, and it prompted me to turn my head to see him chewing on his thumbnail. He was hiding something else, and I wasn't sure I could handle any more bombshells.  
  
   "That day...in the cell," he mumbled, ducking his head, "I went down to beat the shit outta him after ya came up sobbin'."

   He didn't need to remind me, especially not right now, and I handed him back the glass, distantly amused when he tossed it back without a second's hesitation, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

   "I found him on the floor, cryin', and red-eyed," he said, setting the empty glass on the table with a thump. "He said ya weren't gonna be pinin' after him anymore, and he asked me ta make sure that ya forgot about him and never came back."

   Now, I was definitely going to vomit, and I sprung up from my chair with a huff.

   "Stay with the baby," I whispered, taking off down the steps and into the night, breathing heavily in and out of my mouth. A part of me wanted to go back and lay blows on Daryl for coming here and turning my life upside down, and another part of me wanted to drive to Alexandria and do the same to Negan.

   I didn't want this. I didn't want any of it. All I wanted was to live my life with Nora and my family here. Because it was good and steady. We were doing wonderfully here, no matter how many times he tried to force his way into my mind. He hated me. He hated me and made darned sure I knew it that day in the cell. The most selfish, prideful man I'd ever known in my life had cut me down to nothing, and I refused to believe that it had been an act of mercy.

   My feet carried me through the darkness along the path to the barn, and I crept through the quiet night towards the doors, sliding them open and slipping inside. The horses were shut up for the night, standing silently in their stalls, save for the occasional snort. On instinct, I stepped over to where we kept the lanterns, firing one up and heading towards Sable who was chewing on some oats.

   Her big, brown eyes watched me as I unlocked her stall, setting down the lantern in the corner of the room. Whenever I was upset, or just needed to turn my brain off, I came to her. Petting her, brushing her, it was a mindless, calming task, and she was the best company. While she continued to chew, I sat down on the hay bale in the corner, just curling my legs up to my knees, listening to her chewing and breathing.

   When she was done, her natural curiosity kicked in, and she turned herself around, nudging me with her nose. Sable was an affectionate girl, loving to have her chin and neck scratched, and I was happy to oblige.

   "What do I do, girl?" I asked softly, running my nails down the underside of her jaw. Hating that my thoughts were so conflicted, I warred with the urge to keep Nora a secret, all to myself, and the pained feeling that Negan had a right to know. It also brought up difficult thoughts about my mother and father, and the breakdown of their relationship. Though it wasn't exactly the same, she'd made the decision to erase him from my life, to act like he'd never existed, and I wondered how much of my current situation was being informed by how I'd grown up. Was I the same as my mother, unshackling myself from a difficult situation and making Nora's choice for her, too?

   Not that I could've ever imagined jail visits to the man who'd made my mother's life a living hell any more than I could've pictured bringing my girl to Alexandria to visit Negan the same way.

   With a dark chuckle, I got to my feet, resting my head against Sable's neck as she stood still, I guess sensing that I needed something stable right then to hold me up. The strong cords of her neck muscles twitched as I rubbed my cheek along her silky hair.

   "You'll still love me no matter what, won't you?" I murmured. "As long as I give you treats, at least."

   Kissing her snout, I left her to rest, knowing that I couldn't avoid Daryl forever. I trudged back to the house, slapping away a few pesky gnats that threatened to fly up my nose, only to find that he wasn't on the patio anymore.

   Immediately concerned, I shot into the house and up the steps to discover him holding Nora as she whimpered, humming in his gravelly voice to soothe her. He didn't notice me, and I melted back into the shadows to watch them. Nora's arms were curled around his neck, her eyes drifting shut as he turned her from side to side, resting his head on the top of hers.

   How many times had I imagined Negan doing the same thing? Too many to count. And how could I consider myself a Christian woman if I didn't forgive him at least enough to allow him to get to know his daughter? He and I were over, but he'd never committed any transgressions against her like my own father had done with me.

   I was so lost in thought that I didn't notice Daryl until he was right in front of me, waving his hands in my face to break me out of the trance I was in.

   I followed him back downstairs, and he leaned against the wall in the kitchen as I washed out his glass and turned down the lights. We were facing each other outside of Nora's room when I spoke again. Hesitantly.

   "What do I do, Daryl?"

   "I can't answer that for ya, Marie," he mumbled, just as uncomfortable as he was earlier. "But ya don't have to make a life-changin' decision tonight. Sleep on it. Take a while. He ain't goin' nowhere."

   With a yawn, he shuffled off to bed, leaving me to spend the night cuddled around my daughter and eyes wide open as I watched her sleep. Even in her slumbers, she looked like him.

   Her bottom lip would curl up underneath the top one, giving her the same peaceful expression that befell Negan on the nights I'd watch him from the same spot. So alike, these two, even though they'd never met.

   Morning came earlier than I had wanted, and I stifled a yawn as I carried Nora down for breakfast, knocking on Daryl's door to alert him we were up. As I made my way into the kitchen to get some cereal, I spied a piece of paper on the counter.

   When I picked it up, I recognized Daryl's chicken scratch writing, holding it out of Nora's reaching grasp. The words made my heart stop beating, and right then I had my decision on what to do.

 

  **Negan**

 

   "I am a garden fucking _master_ ," I muttered to myself, looking real proud and shit at the pristine rows of vegetables, all of which could win awards, they were so mouthwatering.

   They were my babies now, and I was sure to reign hell down on anyone, man or woman that attempted to fuck with them. No one, and I mean no one, was allowed to set foot in my setup.

   I may not be king of the world anymore, but I was Lord of the Cucumbers. Those suckers were almost as big as my dick, and probably as tasty, too.

   Not that anyone had been playing with my cucumber and radishes. Not since...

   "Fuck off," I told myself, shaking my head to clear it. It was a waste of time to think about her, so I tried not to. During the day, it wasn't so bad. I had my shit locked down when the sun was out, gardening and working around the walls. But at night, when I was back in my cell and staring at the ceiling, she was all I could think about.

   Every word I'd ever said to hurt her. Every move I'd made to further my own interests, and she'd been caught in the crossfire. I was too stupid, too obsessed with power to see what I'd had right in front of me. And now she was off, living a life of happiness without me.

   At least, that's what Daryl kept telling me. He, unlike me, saw her all the time, going away in his big truck to deliver supplies and spend a day or two with her. Each time he'd come back, I'd have to physically bite down on my tongue to not ask him about her. How she looked, if she was with someone else. It chafed me, day after day to not know anything about her.

   But that's the choice I'd made when I'd sent her sobbing from my cell with some very devastating, carefully chosen words. The part that hurt me the worst was that she'd believed them so easily. I think, deep down, that Marie had always assumed that I'd never loved her, that she was just a passing phase. That a guy like me could never really care about a girl like her.

   She had no idea how wrong she was.

   Sure, I was pissed after I found out she'd betrayed me by going to Rick. You're goddamned right I was. It was a slap in the face after all I'd tried to do to keep her safe and protected. And yeah, I'd fucked up by sleeping with that girl. But I'd never meant for her to find out, because it meant nothing to me. Less than nothing.

   That devil on my shoulder had taken over the second I stepped foot on the Hilltop, watching her come out with Rick and his band of merry men. My Angel, working with the enemy. I wanted to scare her, to make her feel as shitty as I had, and I'd lost my mind for a while. And don't even get me started on when she came to Daryl's aid. Images of the two of them, limbs wrapped around each other made me want to bash his head in with Lucille until there was nothing left.

   I would never have hurt her, though. Having her kneel with the others was a scare tactic, designed to make them believe that I was capable of anything. That I would punish the woman I loved, if I had to. They needed to believe that, so that I could reestablish control.

   But the illusion of power I'd had was gone, and I was betrayed by my own men. Fucking Charlie. I should have known.

   As I laid on the ground, beaten and broken, Marie still hovered over me, watching me. Trying to protect me. I woke up in the truck on the way to Alexandria with my head in her lap and her fingers brushing my hair as soft as she used to do at night in bed. I was fucked forever, and she was going to waste away, waiting for me to see the light, both literally and figuratively.

   Each night until I saw her again, I dreamt of Lucille. She'd be sitting at the kitchen table of our old house, her delicate fingers stirring her tea, making the scraping noises that used to drive me up a fucking wall.

   I'd make my way over to her, and she'd look up with a tired, yet tolerant expression. Each night, she'd tell me the same thing.

    _"Negan, my love, you just can't stop screwing up, can you?"_

   It pierced my heart every time, like it wasn't the hundredth time I'd heard it from her.

    _"I don't mean to," I'd say automatically. "I just do."_

_"Let her go," Lucille would advise me. "Let her be happy."_

   After the third night, Marie came walking down the steps, and I did just that. I let Daryl punch me in the face, and I told him to make sure she forgets about me, to make sure that she never came back.

   That fucker was true to his word, and I heard him start the truck, taking her far away. Far away from me and all the destruction I had caused.

   The first year in the cell was like fucking seven dog years. I did nothing but jack off and work out. I got two meals a day, and Rick's dirty looks. That's it. Fucking people on death row probably got more out of life than I did.

   Until that day I stood on my tiptoes, peeking out of the tiny window in my cell, laying eyes on Marie. She'd been standing and talking with Rick, her face gently rounded, like she'd put on some weight. Hell, her whole body was voluptuous, and I'm not talking Carolyn's exaggerated physique. No, it was soft and womanly. She'd never looked more beautiful. Ethereal, in fact. I was mesmerized, drinking in every detail, from her longer hair to the curve of her hips.

   Then she'd turned and we locked eyes. I watched the happiness drain from her face, and misery take its place. She took off like a scared doe, and I couldn't do anything but watch as Rick followed behind her to make sure she was okay.

   Life had gone on around me, and it was the kick in the nuts I needed to get my shit together. Carl, who I'd tormented endlessly at the beginning, began to come around again when Rick mentioned to him that I'd entered a serious depression, and he talked to me.

   At first, it was mostly just to trade insults, but hey, I'd take what I could get at that point. The insults gradually led way to actual conversations, and he started to tell me what was going on outside. I'd had to swallow a lot of shit and pride once I began to understand that things were better. They were better without me.

   All of the other communities were doing well, and they'd established a working trade system. Life had fucking gone on without me, and I didn't want to die in that cell. So, I tried to make peace with the fact that I was a goddamned failure. I'd failed to keep my promises to Lucille, I'd failed to bring order back the only way I knew how, and I'd failed Marie.

   The first day Rick let me walk outside, it was in chains and with a gun to my back, but as soon as I felt the sun on my face, I knew I'd do whatever I had to be able to get free.

   Eat shit? Fine. Serve it up with a side of fries.

   Dirty looks and whispers? Easy enough. I'd dealt with that my entire life.

   Swallow down the fact that Rick was a better leader than I was? Done and done. Check that off the fucking list.

   Accept that I'd screwed up everything I'd ever tried?

   That one was much harder, and I was still working on that to this very day.

   "Negan."

   Fixing a grin on my face, one I knew he hated, I turned and faced Rick, who was standing there with his arms crossed and a mouth screwed up so tight, I'd take bets that he'd just sucked off a lemon.

   "Rick, what brings you back here so early in the day? Not that I'm not glad to see ya."

   "I need you to go back to your cell."

    _Take a deep breath, Negan. Don't punch him in his pruney face._

   "And why is that? I'm working, here. Still got two more rows to weed."

   "Because I need you to, that's why."

   Shit, Maggie must be on her way. She still hated me, and I tried to keep out of sight whenever she came to talk business with Rick. I mean, you kill someone's husband, and it's like you're marked for life.

    _Shut up, asshole. Not everything's a joke._

   "Just give me five minutes. Please?"

   Acid on my tongue, that word, but I batted my eyelashes at him, giving my best submissive face.

   "I can't," he sighed, waving his hand towards the front of the community impatiently. "I'll explain when I can."

   Slamming my trowel down, I stomped past him like a child, swinging my arms in the most obnoxious fashion. It was a beautiful fucking day, and I didn't want to waste another minute in that hellhole. I'd spent too much time in there already.

   Rick could make me go, but he couldn't make me move any faster than I was, and I took my sweet-ass time. We were almost to the gates when they swung open, and Rick let out the loudest swear I'd ever heard coming from his mouth. Truth be told, I was impressed, and I looked to see who he didn't want me to know was coming.

   Daryl's truck was pulling through, hauling a large trailer. Pfft, big fucking deal.

   The sun was beating down, and a bright glare was bouncing off the windshield, so I couldn't tell who was riding with him. I could feel Rick tugging on my arm to get me to move, but I planted my fat ass right where I was, squinting as if that would make a fucking difference.

   When the door opened, my heart nearly burst out of my chest, Alien-style, and a face that I hadn't seen in four-hundred and two days stepped out, wide-eyed and looking faint.

   My Angel was back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huzzah! They're in the same town, and I'll explain why in the next chapter...


	58. When Adam Met Eve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Folks, this is a short one because I am leaving to go out of town tomorrow. I won't be able to update until next week. I hope you enjoy!

 

_Sherry is having contractions. I went with Dwight to take her to Hilltop. I'll be back as soon as I can._

_Daryl_

 

   Don't panic. Don't freak out with Nora right here.

   Sherry was only seven months along, and it was way too early for her to have the baby. This wasn't good, and I never cursed the loss of technology more than I did in that moment.

   There was no way for me to get a hold of any of them and find out what was going on. I had no idea when they left and how bad her contractions were. 

   The only saving grace was that Dr. Carson was amazing. He'd helped me through my own delivery, and though it was uneventful, the depth of his knowledge and experience reassured me and made me feel safe. 

   Still, being left without any information was troubling, and I had to work hard to remain calm with Nora yanking on my hair impatiently. As soon as I got her into her highchair, the kitchen door opened and Dave came strolling in, making himself at home. 

   "You heard?" he said around a huge yawn, letting Nora play with his hands, bending and spreading his fingers as she babbled. 

   "What time did they leave?"

   "Probably just after eleven," he replied, wincing when his pinky finger took a strange turn. Having enough of that, he reached for the plastic toys that sat on the counter, tossing them on the tray to distract the baby. I handed him a cup of coffee and a bowl of oatmeal before sitting down to get Nora to eat. If she was too distracted, mealtimes took forever. 

   "How did she look? Do you think she's all right?"

   "She wasn't bleeding or anything, but she was scared."

   Dave looked nervous, but he dug into his breakfast, speaking again after a moment. 

   "The doc is good, right? I mean, you went to him. You think he'll take care of her?"

   Crap. One of us had to be the adult here, and it was going to have to be me. 

   "Yes, he's great. He was an obstetrician back before everything went bad. They've got a lot of supplies there, so she's in the best hands."

   His face cleared almost instantly, and he smiled at me, the innocent look of a kid that believed that everything would work out, even in this day and age. Who was I to ruin that?

   As soon as he was done, he kissed Nora goodbye and left to do the chores. He told me not to worry, that he'd pick up the slack with Dwight gone, and I finished feeding her breakfast. I wiped her face and took her back upstairs to get us both dressed, throwing on whatever I could find. We brushed our hair and teeth, and then I took her outside to feed and check the horses. 

   Everyone else was already bustling around, a nervous energy permeating the air, and I tried to keep Nora distracted as she looked for two of her favorite people.

   "They had to go bye-bye," I told her, hoisting her onto my hip as we walked into the barn. All of the horses were itching to get outside, and I led them one by one into the field so that they could stretch and get some pent up energy out. While Nora stood in the doorway watching them play, I quickly cleaned out their stalls and refilled their water and food, dusting my hands on my jeans. 

   It was still early, but I had half a mind to just up and head to the Hilltop to find out how Sherry was, and to be there the same way she was for me. Every hour of my labor, she coached me and stayed with me, forgoing sleep and even food so that I didn't have to be alone. She held me when I broke down, aching for Negan so badly that I couldn't take a breath. 

   She cried with me, and she soothed me when my dark-haired little miracle came out with a set of lungs that put opera singers to shame. I wanted to do the same for her. 

   The alarm beeped an hour later, and I rushed towards the gate, beaten by Dave. Daryl drove up a split second later, hopping out as I bounced from foot to foot, dying to know what was happening.

   "She's gotta stay at the Hilltop for the rest of the pregnancy. Can't be moved, but Carson got the contractions to stop."

   "Oh, thank God," I breathed as he stretched, his neck popping from sitting too long. "Can you take me there?"

   "I can take ya to visit, but there's nowhere for ya to stay. Every trailer is taken."

   "Are you kidding me?"

   "Nah," he mumbled, starting for my house as Nora reached for him. Even though he had to be exhausted, he took her from me, setting her up on his shoulders as she grabbed onto his hair, letting out a belly laugh. "They got a bunch of people that just came in, and they're spread short. Even Dwight's gotta stay in the medical trailer."

   "Well, what am I supposed to do? I can't stay here when she's going to be there for the next...however long," I sputtered, twisting my hands together. 

   Daryl waited until we were back in the house, having had to stop and tell everyone else how Sherry was before he set Nora on the ground, falling onto the couch. 

   "Have ya thought about the other situation?" he asked in a low voice. "'Cause ya can always come stay at Alexandria. It's only twenty minutes from there."

   "Let's go," I said without thinking, getting to my feet as Nora looked up at me, holding out her arms. 

   "Are ya sure?"

   "I'm sure."

   And I was. I couldn't hide away forever, and I couldn't hide Nora away either. I had to man up and face Negan so that I could live my life. He and I didn't have to be friends, and we weren't lovers anymore. We just had to come to an understanding. Sherry was my priority over him at the moment. 

   Of course, that wouldn't stop me from probably peeing my pants when I saw him for the first time. 

   While he entertained the baby, I packed two big bags and made my rounds, telling the others what my plans were. None of them were particularly jazzed about me just up and leaving, but they understood, urging me to pass along their well-wishes. They were more than capable of taking care of the grounds, but I wanted to take Sable and another horse with me. 

   Alexandria had built a stable, and they were currently housing only one of their own. Since I wasn't sure how long I'd be staying, I wanted to take them with me, for both the company and to ease the burden on the rest of my friends. 

   Daryl backed up his truck expertly, hitching himself to one of the smaller trailers with ease. While he got the doors opened, I handed the baby off to Debbie who was staring longingly at Daryl's muscular arms. I had half a mind to say something, but it wasn't my place, so I bit my lip and went into the barn, leading out one of our males, a pretty grey Arabian (thank you, abandoned library) that we'd named George. Dave had coined his moniker after the old Looney Tunes cartoon with the abominable snowman because while he was gorgeous, he didn't seem to be the brightest bulb in the pack. 

   He went into the trailer without much fuss, his tail flicking each time Nora let out a squeal. I got him secured quickly, dodging his hoof as he took a step when I tried to pass, heading for my girl. Sable was already nickering, and I barely had her haltered before she was practically dragging me off towards freedom. 

   Wanting to maintain the upper hand, I brought her to a stop, making her wait until I was ready to move her. Though I was still a novice with horses, I knew that I needed to be the one in charge, and I asserted my dominance. I'd probably need to do that a lot in the near future, and I snorted to myself.

   Sable went up as cleanly as George did, and I spent a few seconds petting her until Daryl told me to get my ass into gear. I jumped back to the ground as Dave and Warner hauled out all of the tack and saddles, along with some bags and food. 

   Nora's car seat was the last to get put in, and I strapped her securely, busting out her pacifier which she only used sparingly. This was going to be her first time in the car, and she was already itching to get out. I held an internal debate with myself on whether or not to ride in the back with her, finally shutting the door and placing myself in the front seat, though I reached back so that she could hold my hand.

   Once Daryl got himself situated, we made a wide circle, waving to Warner, Debbie and Dave, a lump forming in my throat. It's not like it was the last time I was ever going to see them, but I was leaving the safety of my home for the last two years and facing the unknown. Facing Negan. 

   The beginning of our trek stunk for sure. Nora was completely out of her element, and she wouldn't stop whining until I plucked her cd from my bag and popped it in. Once that stupid song started playing, she relaxed, sitting back in her seat as I turned myself around, rapping it to make her happy. Daryl let out a disgusted sound, and I shot him a look.

   "Would you rather listen to her cry the whole way there?"

   "I'm thinkin' about it," he mumbled, reaching for his cigarettes before shoving them back in his pocket unhappily. 

   The heat from the outside was bleeding into the cab, so he turned up the air conditioning. It wasn't great, but it did the job, and I tried to keep my baby entertained until her eyes started to droop. She was due for her nap, and when she was finally out, I pulled my aching arm out of her grip, facing the front again. 

   I didn't have her to keep me occupied, and as we passed through the other side of the mountain range, I began to panic. What was I doing? Why was it so hot in here?

   Wiping my forehead, I slowly put my hand on the doorknob, wondering if I could survive jumping from the truck by ducking and rolling, imagining myself tumbling down the hill like a cartoon character. 

   "Don't even think about it," Daryl snorted, locking all of the doors from his side. "Yer doin' the right thing."

   "Well, how come you're on his side all of a sudden?" I groused like a petulant brat. 

   "I ain't on his side. I just think that ya can't run away from your past forever. Ya don't have to let him back into yer life, but you can let him into hers."

   I looked down at my hands, picking at my thumb nervously. How was I going to do this? Just walk up to him and say, "Oh, by the way, this is your daughter?" I had no idea how to even go about dealing with this man. He'd smashed my heart into bits and dismissed me like I was nothing. And now I had to share my little girl with him.

   "I'll radio Rick when we get closer and make sure that Negan's put away til ya get settled," Daryl told me, and a tiny part of my brain relaxed. At least if I could get inside and get my bearings, it would buy me some time to figure out what to say.

   "Thank you, Daryl. You're a good friend."

   The corner of his mouth twitched, but he didn't take his eyes off off the road, and I returned my attention to the landscape. Summer was going to be winding down soon, and I for one was glad. Spring and fall were my favorite times of the year. Endings and beginnings. It felt right. 

   When the familiar sights of the Alexandria settlement began to get closer, I felt my breathing start to speed up, a natural reaction to the knowledge that we were mere minutes away from my reckoning. 

   You're not the woman that you were two years ago, I told myself. You're stronger than anyone ever thought, especially Negan. 

   While I was building myself up mentally, Daryl took out the radio, calling to Rick. He answered after only ten or so seconds, and Daryl asked him to put Negan away. 

   "Why? What's wrong?"

   "I've got Marie and the baby with me."

   "Say no more."

   The line went dead, and I felt like someone had dunked me in lava, a burning heat radiating off of my skin. Every cell in my body could sense Negan nearby, like a radar detector. Or a subconscious warning. 

   Nora was still out as Alexandria into view, and I wanted to throw up. This was every nightmare I've ever had rolled into one. If I was nude, the trauma would be complete. 

   Despite Rick's assurance that Negan would be in his cell, the second the gate opened, I saw him. He was near the house, watching us drive in with a bored expression on his face. Rick was tugging on his arm to get him to move, but he didn't budge. 

   He looked bigger than ever, all muscled and tan, his face showing a few more age lines, but utterly the same. Same brown eyes, same wide shoulders. Same ability to make me feel small and insignificant. 

   Like a switch had flipped, I went from hot to cold, my skin turning clammy and wet. Negan was squinting, trying to see inside the truck, and Daryl swore under his breath, bringing the truck to a stop. 

   "Stay here," he ordered, but I didn't. I opened the door and stepped out, meeting his eyes for the first time in a year. 

   His gaze pulled me like a tractor beam, and I was helpless under it until his eyes dropped to the ground in something akin to shame. I couldn't read his face, his feelings, but I was acutely grateful in that moment that he broke eye contact, turning myself around to open Nora's door. 

   Deeply asleep, I pulled her from her seat, resting her on my shoulder and putting her sun hat on her head to shield her face from Negan. When I turned back towards him, the look on his face would've broken my heart if he hadn't already done so two years ago. He looked...unnerved, and I was terrified that he had figured it out. 

   I held the hat to Nora's head as Rick gave me an apologetic look, and Daryl took me by the arm, guiding me past the other two men. 

   "Marie..." Negan choked out, but I shook my head, refusing to make eye contact again. I didn't want to be ambushed, I just needed a few minutes to clear my head. "Marie, you owe me, goddamnit!"

  Oh, that did it. 

   I spun around, ready to attack. 

   "I owe you nothing, do you hear me? Nothing!"

   Daryl stepped in between us, raising his fist, as angry as I've ever seen him. 

   "Leave her the hell alone, or I'll knock yer fuckin' teeth out, do ya understand?"

   Thanks to the commotion, Nora started to stir, and her arms splayed out as she let out a cry, stopping everyone in their tracks. 

   "Shh," I murmured, taking a step back. "Hush, baby."

   I could feel Negan's eyes on me, and when I looked up, I could see him over Daryl's shoulder, watching me as I rocked our daughter back and forth. 

   "Is that your kid?" he asked with hurt and jealousy pouring out of every syllable. "Where's the dad? Is it Daryl?"

   Everything came crashing down in slow motion. It was like witnessing a car accident as the words came out of my mouth as if I was possessed, helpless to stop them. So torturous that it was almost as if they came from someone other than myself, watching it as a bystander.

   " _You're_ the dad, you stupid asshole."


	59. Hell Hath No Fury

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! I've missed writing, even though it's only been a few days, and I hope to update again in a day or so. Thank you all for the lovely comments and continued support. You are all my muses!

   To say that my stay in Alexandria had an inauspicious start might be the understatement of the year. It hadn't been my intention to blurt out that Negan was the father at all, but the proclamation that I owed him anything after the way things ended between us had me seeing red, and I couldn't help but to lash out at him, swears included. 

   Unfortunately for me, the sick thrill of seeing him go pale and silent made my lips curl up derisively for all of two seconds before the enormity of what I'd just done had sunk in. Shock made all of his features go slack, like someone had cut marionette strings from his body, and he almost hit the ground. Rick and Daryl took him by the arms, steering him into the house and to his cell as I stood there shaking, barely keeping ahold on my baby. 

   They were back less than a minute later, and I could hear Negan's voice carrying through the air, though I couldn't understand what he was saying. But there was a rage in his inflection as Daryl pushed me towards his house. Numbly, I followed behind him as he muttered under his breath, and I walked up his steps over to the couch, sitting down with a gasp.

   "Well, that was one way ta break the news," he said, sitting down next to me. All I could do was shake my head as I took Nora's hat off, wiping away a tiny amount of perspiration that had formed on the top of her head.

   "What's the matter with me? Why would I do that?"

   "Because he ambushed ya, and I'm sorry about that," Daryl apologized, ignoring my shaking head. It wasn't his fault. "Ya shouldn't have had ta walk in and see him first thing."

   "Not everything is your fault," I told him softly as I set Nora down on the cushion next to me. "I just didn't want to have a scene. I wanted some time to think about what I was going to say so that we could have an adult conversation, and I'm starting to wonder if that was just a pipe dream. This whole situation is screwed."

   Daryl, of course, had no response to that, and we sat together for a few minutes until he got up to unload the truck. Though I wanted to get the horses settled, I let him do it so that I could be there when Nora woke up. She'd never been away from home before, and I wasn't sure how she was going to react to being in Alexandria. Having Daryl here helped for sure, and she knew Rick and Michonne from their visits to Shadow Mountain. But everything else was going to be brand new to her.

   While he was gone, I rummaged around in his pantry to find something to throw together for dinner, and I was sorely disappointed. Canned beans, some dried pasta, and liquor. That's all that was in there, and I shut the door with a sigh. Only a man would live like that.

   By the time he came back, Nora and I were walking around the house as I showed her Daryl's place, letting her point to pictures and knick-knacks that had no doubt been here for years. None of this was his style, and he probably didn't care enough to change it. Our bags were set inside the foyer along with a canvas tote filled with food. 

   "Day!" Nora chirped, reaching out to him as he pushed himself forward tiredly. I'd forgotten that he'd been up since the previous evening, and I asked him quickly when we'd be able to go to the Hilltop.

   "I'll take ya tomorrow," he promised as he tucked Nora into his arms, letting her play with his hair, which she was quite fond of doing. He kept her busy while I hurriedly unpacked our things in the guest room, blowing past him to put the food away and throw on some spaghetti. "Rick's gonna drop off some of Judith's old stuff in the mornin' for Nora," he informed me, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. 

   "Listen," I hedged, pushing my food around on my plate, "I know you guys don't like when he's out after dark, but I really need to talk to him. Would he be able to come here?"

   "Marie, I think ya should just let him stew for the night."

   "You know me," I sighed, watching as Nora shoveled a handful of soft pasta into her mouth with a grunt. My beautiful little piggy. "I can't leave things like that."

   "Well, Rick ain't gonna let him out, but ya could probably go and talk to him in his cell."

   Great. Just what I want to do. Go back down those steps when I was so rudely dismissed the last time I saw him. But after a minute or two of thinking about it, it was probably the best option. He'd have nowhere to go, and if it got to be too much for me, I could just leave. 

   "All right," I conceded, finishing my dinner. The sooner I got Nora settled, the quicker I could get this evening over with and go to sleep. Daryl went up to get a shower while I put the rest of the food away and carried Nora to the upstairs bathroom to get her bathed. 

   So far, she seemed at ease here, though she kept asking for Sherry and Dwight. Each time, I promised her that we would be seeing them tomorrow, and she'd go back to splashing in the water, babbling in her high-pitched voice. She was clean and smelling like summer strawberries when I carried her into our new room, dressing her and brushing her hair, laying her down to read. 

   It took three stories and a chorus of You Are My Sunshine before her eyes closed for the night, and with a soft kiss to her forehead, I left her in the bed with a nightlight and an open door so that Daryl could hear her if she woke up. 

   He was drowsing on the couch when I came down, sliding on my shoes and fussing with my hair. I could see him watching me out of the corner of my eye, and when I turned around, he had a smirk on his face. 

   "What?"

   "Ya look fine."

   "Oh, I don't care what I look like," I fussed, glancing up at the ceiling. "Just go to bed. I left the door open in case she starts to cry."

   Daryl got up with a yawn, shuffling towards the stairs, stopping with a foot on the first step. 

   "Ya didn't do anything wrong, ya know?" he said over his shoulder. "He made his choice all those years ago, and he's the one that has ta live with it."

   I don't know why, but it made me feel better, a confirmation that I wasn't a monster, and I murmured a good-night before walking out into the twilight, taking a moment to just breathe. 

   The town was quiet as I headed to Rick's house to check in, and he was on the porch as I walked up the steps, joining him. The lights from his living room cast a warm glow on his face, and he gave me a reassuring smile. 

   "Let's go," he told me, waving his arm, and I followed him back into the street, matching his casual pace. The good thing about Rick was that he knew when to shut up, and he left me to my thoughts, only speaking when we got to the door and he introduced me to Ken, who was Negan's night watchman.

   Ken held out his hand, shaking mine with vigor, and I waved to Rick, who hovered in the doorway. Ken was young and very good-looking, with brown hair and pretty blue eyes. 

   "I know the way," I said in a squeaky voice, and he stepped back as I went through the kitchen to the hallway that led to the basement. It had a lock on it now, and I slid it open with shaky fingers, feeling as nervous as I did the last time I came here. 

   The light was on in the basement and I took a deep breath before I descended down for the hardest conversation I would likely ever have. It felt like I was walking into a courtroom to plead my case, and I had to remind myself that I wasn't the one who was trapped. I was as free as a bird, and I had the power. 

   I could feel my armpits getting damp, and I flapped my arms back and forth before stepping out, getting my bearings before looking at Negan. The basement looked the same. Same bars, same creaky wooden chair in the corner, and the same prisoner. Only this time he wasn't defiantly staring at the ceiling. 

   He was pouting, sitting on the bed with his legs pulled up and a sour expression on his face as he stared daggers at me. 

   As calmly as I could, I walked over to the chair, hefting it up and carrying it to the bars, perching myself on it and crossing my legs. The entire time, his eyes never left me, and we sat in silence for nearly a minute before he opened his mouth.

   "Did you know when you left the Sanctuary?" he asked, resting his chin on his knees. 

   "No."

   "When I came to Alexandria with Sasha?"

   "Yes."

   I could see his jaw flex as he ground his teeth together, but I clamped my lips together to keep from blurting out an excuse to justify myself. I didn't do anything wrong.

   "How could you not tell me?" 

   The words were laced with an unspoken accusation and I gave him a level stare. 

   "What difference would it have made?"

   "What diff-" he spluttered, unfolding his long legs and standing up, clenching his fists so hard that white spots formed on each knuckle. "What the fuck do you mean 'what difference would it have made?'"

   "I said what I meant and I meant what I said," I replied quietly, feeling my pulse falter as he stared down at me from his position. Always looming over people, this freaking guy. "You chose the Sanctuary over me."

   "I would've never-"

   "It wasn't my job to give you a reason not to do what you did," I snapped, getting to my feet. "If I wasn't enough, if my promise to work things out with you and have a family with you wasn't enough, that's not my problem. You made your choice. You cared more about beating Rick than having a life."

   "That's not true. You could've been honest with me."

   "I suppose I could've," I agreed, even though my head was shaking back and forth. There was an anger, a slow building rage bubbling up inside me, and it was ready to erupt. I was Mount Vesuvius and he was about to become Pompeii, buried under my bitter ash of resentment and hurt. "I mean, I could've dropped the news when I was hiding between Simon's legs while you had your little gunfight with Rick. I probably should've told you while we were burying Simon's body," I continued, getting to my own feet. 

   "Oh, wait," I said, snapping my fingers as his mouth dropped open. "You weren't there. You were back at the Sanctuary as I lowered him into the ground."

   "I didn't know-"

   "I guess I could've told you when I was on my knees at the Hilltop with a gun pointed at my head. That's a nice way to break the news, isn't it?" I asked, my voice starting to get higher. "You, kneeling down in front of me as you threatened to kill two people and then throw the rest of us into cells? That's romantic."

   "I was never-"

    _"Shut up!"_ I screeched, beginning to lose control. "You don't get to talk right now. If you say another word, I'm walking out of this craphole and never coming back, do you understand?"

   He nodded once, folding his arms in front of him as I circled back and forth in front of the bars. 

   "Now, where was I?" I muttered, moving so quickly that I was getting dizzy. "Oh, right. When you had me on the ground after releasing hundreds of walkers on the Hilltop."

   Negan's nostrils flared, but he kept his trap shut, and I wrapped my fingers around the bars, just inches from him.

   "This feels familiar," I drawled as a bitter smile formed on my lips. "I was in this exact position two years ago, trying to tell you then, but you were kind enough to inform me that you slept with the girl from the kitchen. You wrapped your hand around my neck and told me..." I paused dramatically as I looked skyward, searching for the exact words. "That I was 'a plain, boring lay, and the worst mistake you'd ever made'. That was what you said, right?"

   "I said that because-"

   "Shut. Up."

   I watched his Adam's apple bob up and down as he fought the urge to reply, and I leaned my head against the bars, wanting to reach through and throttle him for making me relive this. I left this behind, this pain and he was bringing it all into crystal clear focus. 

   "You destroyed me that day. I walked out of this basement unsure if I even wanted to live anymore. So...yeah, I suppose I could've told you about the baby through all of that, but guess what? You didn't know because you didn't deserve to know. You always chose yourself, Negan. You chose the Sanctuary, and you chose to push me away. You got one out of two. Not bad, right?"

   I could feel the tears burning behind my eyelids as I started to breathe unsteadily, my fingers aching from gripping the bars so tightly. 

   "While you were down here for two years, I was pregnant and I had no one to help me other than Sherry and Dwight. They were there for me through morning sickness and the mourning of what could've been. They were there when I spent nights crying with a baby in my belly that moved and kicked, feeling like I was never going to have another day when I would be able to smile or laugh. They were there for me through thirty hours of labor, and when she was ripped from my body because she was stuck in the birth canal."

   I heard a sharp intake of breath, and I lifted my head to see that his eyes were red, but I didn't care. I wanted him to hurt. I wanted him to know what he put me through because he was a selfish jerk that only cared about himself. 

   "They were there when the doctor put her on my chest, and I saw dark hair and your dimples. Every sleepless night, while you were here in your bed with nothing to worry about, I was walking the halls with her, soothing her and feeding her. Bathing her. Worrying about her, that something would happen to her. That we'd get overrun with walkers, or attacked by someone like _you_. Someone that wanted everything we had."

   That was the moment that he broke, dropping back onto the bed and burying his head in his hands. But I wasn't done erupting. I had to let it out so that I could finally heal for good. 

   "Every tooth that came in, every diaper that needed to be changed. I did it myself. Every word that she's learned, every smile that she's given, every belly laugh that sounds like an angel fell to Earth. It's all been me. You missed the first year and a half of her life because you chose that. You don't get to be the injured party. You don't get to make me feel bad."

   Negan's shoulders were shaking with silent grief, an outpouring of...I don't know. Guilt? Shame? I didn't care.

   "I'm not here for you," I said softly, watching as he stiffened, even though he didn't look up. "I'm here for her. I'm not going to make the choice for her that my mother made for me. You're her father." 

   He mumbled something into his hands, but I couldn't understand it. 

   "What?" I asked sharply, but he didn't look up. 

   "Thank you."

   "Come by tomorrow afternoon, and you can see her," I said in a tired voice, heading for the steps. He didn't reply, and I didn't stick around to see why. I thanked Ken when I got to the top of the steps, showing myself out. 

   A weight had been lifted from my soul, and I felt lighter as I walked down the street towards Daryl's house. It wasn't that I felt good about hurting him. But I felt better because I was finally able to express the pain and frustration of having to navigate the last two years alone, without a partner to turn to. He had no idea how badly I'd wanted him there. If even just to share the worries of being a parent, or to rub my back during the contractions. To tell me that I was beautiful and loved for giving him the greatest gift he'd ever receive. 

   Strangely enough, I had the most restful sleep that I could remember that night, snuggled up next to Nora, her little hand wrapped around my finger. I was truly a lucky woman.


	60. Mother Theresa in the House

   Nora sat in the backseat, looking out at the trees as we headed for the Hilltop to see Sherry and Dwight, entranced by the sun that filtered through the rapid scenery. Daryl was driving, having insisted on accompanying us for the visit. He’d been up already and waiting for us when we came down in the morning, unusually inquisitive about my meeting with Negan.

    While I fed the baby, I told him in vague terms what we talked about, not wanting to dissect it over again. I was just relieved that I had gotten through the conversation more or less intact, and I was curious to see both his and Nora’s reaction to each other. But that wouldn’t come until later today, and my mind was focused on seeing Sherry and to make sure she was hanging in there.

   Once the house came into sight, I let out a surprised murmur, not having been here in a long time. They’d extended the wall at least a hundred feet out all around, and it was fortified with big cement columns. All in all, it was a pleasant surprise, though I’d had no doubts about Maggie’s ingenuity and leadership.

   “I had no idea the Hilltop had gotten this…busy,” I said as Daryl grunted.

“Yeah, they’ve doubled their numbers in the past year.”

   “Where are all these people coming from?”

   “Some were from the Sanctuary,” he told me as we slowed to a crawl to wait for the gate to open. “Some were from the coast. Their homes had been destroyed in that big storm we had last summer. And then there are just the stragglers that come across the area. They got another doctor now.”

   “Wow,” I muttered, looking up at the guards that were leaning against one of the posts, pointing down at our truck. A moment later, the gate swung open, and I felt myself break out into a smile. Maggie was waiting there with her son on her hip, looking beautiful. Her hair was down past her shoulders now, and she was tanned and smiling.

   As we pulled off to the paved parking area, I got out, unbuckling Nora and pulling her from her seat as Maggie approached, pulling me into a hug.

   “It’s been too long,” she exclaimed, stepping back to get a good look at me. Her eyes went to Nora, a flickering of unease as she noticed her resemblance to Negan, but she recovered quickly, reverting to a smile. “She’s just gorgeous,” she told me, and it seemed sincere. Maggie wasn’t one to lie, and I rested my free hand on her shoulder.

   She’d named her son after her father, and he was a quiet, sweet thing, just a month or so older than Nora. He had sleek, black hair and soft, almond-shaped eyes, both of which were watching Nora in open curiosity. She, in turn, was entranced with the sight of another child, her lips forming a delicate ‘o’ in  
surprise. Judith had been in school when we left Alexandria for the day, so this was her first time getting to interact with a baby, since Rick’s daughter was four years old.

   The two toddlers both started to babble at the same time, and Daryl watched them with a big grin. Nora began to struggle in my arms, and I set her on the ground, Hershel following suit. The two of them circled around each other like sharks for a minute, just taking each other in, and the three of us watched in amusement.

   Hershel took off towards the grass, and Nora followed him, beginning what would end up being a very long game of tag. While Daryl kept an eye on them, Maggie and I caught up with each other, carefully avoiding any talk about Negan. She was doing well, and she told me about her new residents and how well the Hilltop was doing. They’d installed more housing and a few greenhouses along with a barn of cattle, making my mouth water. They were used for milk, and not meat, she told me with a wink.

   “If we ever slaughter any, you get first dibs,” she laughed as I swallowed hard. Ahh, a hamburger. I wanted just one more before I kicked the bucket.

   Shaking off the thought, we left Daryl and the kids to head towards the medical trailer, and I asked her how Sherry was doing.

   “No more contractions since Carson got them under control,” she mused, “but she’s weepy and homesick. I think that you being here will help. You’re staying at Alexandria, then?”

   “Yes, I am,” I sighed, and she let the subject drop, stepping into the trailer.

   Dwight was asleep on the foldout couch, and we crept past him to the examination room where Sherry was laying on her side, staring out the window. As soon as I walked in, she started to cry, reaching out her arms, and I crawled into the bed behind her, wrapping my arms around her.

   “Hush,” I soothed. “You’re in the best hands and you’re going to be fine.”

   She rolled over, burying her head in my shoulder, and I let her get out all her emotion and frustration, staining the front of my shirt with her tears. Not too long ago, it was Sherry comforting me in the same position, and I was going to be here for her for whatever she needed.

   “I was so scared that I was going to lose him,” she hiccupped, her voice muffled against me. “I can’t lose this baby, Marie. I would die.”

   “You’re not going to lose him. Dr. Carson is going to take great care of you, and you’re going to stay here until you bring that beautiful boy home.”

   She shuddered once before sniffling loudly, and Maggie slipped out to give us some privacy. I spent the next few minutes rubbing her back, just murmuring quietly as she began to calm down, and when she sat up, her face was red and swollen.

   “Did you come from home?” she asked, reaching next to her for a bottle of water.

   “Nora and I are staying in Alexandria until you’re ready to come home.”

   Her eyes were as big as saucers as the implication dawned on her, and she opened her mouth to speak but was cut off by Nora’s chirpy voice. She was in Daryl’s arms, reaching out anxiously for Sherry and me, and he set her on the bed between us as Sherry started to cry again.

   “I’ve missed you so much, sweetie,” she cried, kissing Nora on the head as my little girl threw her arms around Sherry’s neck. It was touching, and I hoped that it cheered her up somewhat to know that we were only a few minutes away. As they snuggled together, I eased off of the bed to let them have some love time, popping out to see Dwight sitting on the edge of the couch with his hair sticking up everywhere. I bent down, giving him a quick hug and he moved over so that I could sit down.

   Like a broken record, I told him that we were staying in Alexandria, and we had a hushed conversation about Negan. I went into a little more detail about my talk with him the night before, and he seemed contemplative as he listened.

   “If he’s out, it’s because Rick thinks he’s changed,” Dwight said, watching me closely. “Do you?”

   “I don’t know,” I admitted after a moment of deliberation. “But I’m not going to deny him his child. He has a right to get to know her. You’ve known him longer than anyone. Do you think he could be different?”

   “He wasn’t always an asshole,” he told me, raising one eyebrow. “Scratch that. He’s always been an asshole, but he wasn’t a sadistic asshole when we met. Maybe he’s seen that you don’t need to hold your boot to everyone’s neck to get things accomplished. And now that he’s on the other side of it, seeing how it is when you have people to love and worry about, maybe he won’t backslide.”

   Well, that was comforting.  
  
   Switching gears, we discussed the herd that was slowly on the move, and Dwight asked if I would talk to Rick and possibly have him go with Warner and Dave to check it out.

   Apparently, he had experience with a really large group of walkers, with mixed results.

   "I'm going to be here for a while, and we need to stay ahead of this, since it's headed right for us," he said as Daryl came stomping in, shaking some dirt out of his hair. "You guys are gonna have to pick up the slack. I'm sorry."

   "There's nothing to be sorry for," I assured him with a smile as Daryl cocked his head to the right. Excusing myself, I left the two of them to talk shop as I went back in to check on Sherry and Nora. Thankfully, Sherry was smiling as my girl played with strands of her hair, murmuring softly as she nuzzled Nora's cheek.

   "Just think," I said with a chuckle. "Your son and my daughter getting married one day."

   "Oh God," Sherry groaned, rubbing her swollen belly. "Let's get through potty training first."

   We spent a few more hours together, eating and talking until I pulled the baby out of the bed and kissing Sherry on the forehead.

   "I'll be back to see you tomorrow," I promised, tucking the sheet around her side.

   She shut her eyes, and I went back out to the front of the Hilltop, buckling Nora in her seat after airing out the truck. She was due for her nap, and I wanted to get a ride in on Sable before meeting up with Negan. Daryl told me that he had plans to go out hunting, but he suggested that I leave the baby with Rick so that she could get to know Judith.

   Thirty minutes later, I was laying her on the couch with Rick and Michonne hovering over her, promising to call me on the radio if there were any problems. I hadn't seen Negan when we came back, and I wanted to avoid him until we had Nora as a buffer between us.

   "Seriously," I hedged, lingering by the door. "Call me if you need anything."

   "We're good at this," Rick told me with a straight face. "It's not our first time watching a little girl."

   "I know, I know. I'm just..."

   "Go," Michonne said firmly, pushing me out onto the porch. "We've got this."

   They shut the door in my face, and I turned around, jogging down the steps before I started to second guess myself. In truth, I needed this, and so did the horse. She'd been cooped up for a day and a half, and she really needed to stretch her legs. The woods around Alexandria were swept and cleared daily, so we wouldn't be likely to encounter any walkers, but I stopped and got my scythe anyways, just to be safe.

   As I headed for the barn, I saw that Negan was working in the garden. Shirtless.

   The muscles of his back were rippling with effort, and his skin was tanned and slightly pink. The slope of his shoulders, the back of his neck. It was hypnotic, and I tripped because I was ogling him like a jerk, making me nearly hit the ground.

   Cursing myself, I hustled into the barn, leaning against the doorframe.

    _Get ahold of yourself, stupid. He broke your heart._

   He did break my heart. But it didn't change the fact that he looked good. Really good. And since I hadn't had sex in over two years, I was feeling like a creepy lech. Libido is a funny thing. It can pop up out of nowhere like a pimple and ruin your whole mood.

   Shaking my head at my stupidity, I followed the sound of Sable's whinnies to open her stall door and lead her out to saddle her up. Her tail was twitching wildly, and she was probably feeling as pent up and ready to release some tension as I was.

   Once I was on her back, I clicked my tongue and she started off towards the fresh air. I could feel my hair blowing back as we started trotting towards the front of Alexandria, and with each step closer to the exit, I felt my muscles warm up and my heart start to beat faster.

   She must have sensed freedom, because she started to pick up her pace and by the time the gates opened, we were hurtling headlong through the opening. Someone shouted out to be careful, but all I could do was laugh.

   For someone that spent so much of her life afraid to have fun and let loose, barreling out into the woods on the back of a horse like a free spirit just felt right. I was learning to be happy in my own skin and to know that I could be a good woman and still find the joy in frivolous, silly things. It didn't make me selfish or shallow. It enriched me.

   We left the security of the gates behind, making our way into the woods where it was quiet and green, a musky warm world away from everyone else. I was able to turn my mind off for an hour as we explored the new area, Sable stopping here and there to nibble on plants and tender shoots of grass that dotted the rich area.

   Nora would be up soon, and with a sigh, I turned the horse around, working her endurance as we jumped fallen logs and weaved around branches and trunks until the walls came back into sight. The clop-clop of her hooves on the asphalt made a pleasant sound as we trotted back to the barn until I saw that Negan was there waiting for us.

   My mood dipped slightly as he watched my approach, licking his lips in a seductive way. What nerve.

   I tried to ignore him as I passed by, bringing Sable to a stop outside of her stall and sliding off of her back, but I could feel his eyes on me and hear the sound of his boots on the concrete as he got closer.

   "I gotta say, that was quite the sight to see you on that horse like you were born for it," he mentioned as I kept my back to him, clipping the bridle to the wall.

   "Mmmhmm."

   He stood next to me by the front of Sable as I started to brush her down, his body heat radiating onto my skin in waves.

   "Can we talk?"

   "We are talking," I said shortly, drawing my hand in a long arc across the horse's back.

   "I mean about last night."

   "I'd rather not," I said as he stepped closer to me. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see him reach out before retracting his hand.

   "There are some things I'd like to clarify," he insisted, and I turned my head slightly. He looked serious, but I didn't want to do this right before he saw Nora. I just wanted to make this as easy as possible. "You have every right to be fucking pissed at me and to hate me, but I- ow!" he howled, jumping up like he just sat on a hot poker and scaring the crap out of me.

   "It bit me!" he screeched, hopping a few feet away as he rubbed at his side. "That fucking horse bit me."

   As he let out a long, unbroken string of swear words, I worked to keep a smile off of my face and I held Sable's head steady with her bridle. It wasn't a trait I wanted to encourage in her, no matter what kind of weird satisfaction it gave me, and I led her into her stall, filling her water bucket and tossing in some food.

   "You shouldn't stand so close to a horse you don't know," I chided him as he lifted up his shirt. Sure enough, there was a red welt on his side that was quickly turning purple. "Come on. I'll get you some ice."

   He trailed behind me, muttering something about a glue factory, and I shook my head. He wouldn't complain about pain if he'd had to push Nora out of his body.

   Daryl's house was empty when we walked inside, and I went straight to the kitchen, folding up a towel and dumping some ice on it. I handed it to him without a word and he placed it on his side underneath his shirt. So what if some of that stomach hair was staring at me?

   I didn't have time to get lost in the thought of it as the door opened and Daryl came strolling in with Nora. He came to a sudden stop as he and Negan regarded each other warily. A funky nervousness enveloped me as I crossed the room to my sleepy girl, taking her from him with a kiss on her cheek.

   "Hey, sleepy," I whispered as she rested her head on my shoulder. Daryl tore his eyes away from our guest, giving me a curious look.

   "Do ya need me ta stick around?"

   "I'll be fine," I assured him, and he backed up towards the door.

   "I'm gonna eat with Rick, and I'll be back after dark," he said, leaving without a goodbye.

   The house was oppressively silent as I stood in the living room, gathering up my courage. When I turned around, Negan was standing up, the icepack abandoned on the table. His face was a mixture of emotions, caught somewhere between wonder and sadness as he drank her in.

   "She's beautiful," he said in a low voice, and there was a slight tremble in it. "She's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

   Nora's arms squeezed harder around my neck as she looked at the stranger in our house, and I gave him a warning glance.

   "Give her a few minutes. She just woke up."

   He didn't move, didn't respond. He just stared at her as if she were a mirage, destined to disappear at any moment. Carrying her over to the couch, I sat down, running my hands through her hair as she peeked over my shoulder to study Negan as he was doing the same with her.

   "Come sit down," I told him, and he moved hesitantly towards the couch, sitting down next to me. Nora shifted slightly, hiding behind my hair as she squirmed a little, and I rubbed her back reassuringly before taking Negan's hand, linking our fingers together and holding them up so that Nora could see. "Nora," I said softly as her head lifted slightly, looking at our entwined fingers. "This is dada."

   Her little eyebrows knitted together as her eyes met mine, and I smiled tenderly at her, trying to keep my voice even. Negan was wound as tightly as a spring next to me, and I used our joined hands to point to myself.

   "Mama," I pronounced myself, then pointed to Negan. "Dada. This is your dada."

   "Hi, baby," Negan cooed at her, smiling.  
Her scowl got more pronounced before her chin started to quiver, and she slapped at our hands with a cry, trying to separate them.

   "No, mama. No. No dada."

   It probably wasn't the worst rejection Negan had ever received, but it had to sting like the Dickens.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...not the best first introduction, haha!


	61. Counsel the Father

   "It's time to eat," I called out, carrying the platter of pasta to the table. 

   Nora came toddling in with Negan behind her, and she reached her arms out for me to lift her up into her seat, babbling nonsense with the occasional understandable word thrown in. I caught the word 'tuck' and 'kit' which I knew were truck and cat, but I had no clue what she and Negan had been playing until I caught him rubbing his shin as he sat down. Nora most likely rammed him with her big, red plastic truck that looked like Daryl's and I set her in her seat.

   In the week that he'd been coming around, Negan and Nora seemed to be getting along much more swimmingly. Anything had to be better than the first night when she'd thrown a tantrum, forcing our hands apart. In truth, I hadn't wanted to touch him, but I thought that it would've cemented the fact that he was important. Instead, it had upset her mightily, and she'd pushed him away before burying her face in my chest.

   I had to give the man credit. Negan took it in stride, sitting there in a rare silence as I soothed her until we went up to get a bath. He kept his distance, staying in the doorway as I got her cleaned up, and he did the same when I read her some stories and got her into bed. Her eyes would flicker back and forth between the two of us, and each time I would smile and give her a kiss to show her that everything was okay.

   Each day since he'd come after working in the gardens, and they would spend a short amount of time together while I'd get dinner ready. More often than not, she would seek me out for reassurance, occasionally asking for Daryl. She never called Negan 'dada', but as they got more used to each other, she'd begun to interact with him, letting him sit with her and play. Personally, I don't think he'd ever had to work so hard in his life to earn the favor of a female, and it left me amused.

   The only issue I had was getting him to leave after Nora went to bed. I was trying to be accommodating and understanding as to how much he had missed and how lonely he was, but I didn't want to be alone with him. It brought up too many conflicting feelings on my end, and I would try to walk him to the door as soon as she was out, avoiding any meaningful conversation. I just wasn't ready for that.

   Daryl had made himself scarce, leaving with Rick to go to Shadow Mountain to meet with Warner and Dave about the herd. So far, from the reports that I'd received, they were still circling the valley, but who knew how long that would last. We needed to start planning on what to do with them, and all anyone had come up with that seemed remotely doable was to lead them to the Potomac.

   Jeff and Sue had been avid boaters, and he knew of an area along the river near Great Falls that was notorious for drowning deaths due to the rough waters, and the leaders of all the communities were currently trying to work out a route to lead the massive group of walkers there, since it was over eighty miles away. It would be a long, arduous process, but no one could seem to come up with anything better.

   Negan began to dish out the pasta, using a ridiculous Italian accent that was completely lost on Nora as she banged her chubby hands on her tray, growing impatient. Between mornings running around with Judith while I rode and afternoons with Hershel, she was working up a hearty appetite.

   Sherry was still holding up well, having no more contractions for the time being, and the thought was that if they could keep her comfortable for the next month, it would be close enough to her due date that the baby would be healthy, should anything happen.

   All in all, it was a good week, and I began to cut up the noodles for the baby, tuning Negan out for a few minutes as I hummed to myself.

   "Mama, dan?" Nora asked, banging her hands again. _Oh, dear Lord_.

   "What's she asking?" Negan piped up as he twirled a huge amount of pasta on his fork, shoving in his mouth. He hadn't had the pleasure of seeing our little rap dance, and I was in no hurry to perform that idiocy in front of him. In fact, I had assumed she'd forgotten about the song since we hadn't listened to it in over a week, but no.

   "She wants to dance," I muttered, feeding her a spoonful of dinner.

   "The two of you dance?" he asked, and I could hear the smile in his voice even though I wasn't looking at him.

   "It's not your kind of music," I stalled, wiping Nora's mouth to keep myself from blushing, but it didn't work.

   "Mama, dan?" she asked again, and I shook my head.

   "No, we eat," I said firmly, feeding her another bite. Her little mouth changed into a frown and I sighed. "After dinner, baby."

   "Oh, this I have to see," Negan laughed, and I shot him a look.

   "Maybe Dada should dance with you," I wiggled my eyebrows at her, spooning another bite in her mouth.

   "No, mama dan," she insisted in her baby voice after she swallowed, holding her mouth open for more.

   Resigned, I fed her until she signaled that she was done, wiping her clean before starting on my own dinner, setting Nora on my lap as she played with my hair. As he was now doing quite a lot, Negan stared at the two of us with a solemn expression, and I tried not to let it bother me. I'm sure he was filled with regret at the way things went down and the fact that he'd missed some important, formative time with her, but I wanted to tell him to appreciate what he had now.

   The second I laid my fork down, Nora pulled herself to her feet on my lap, bouncing up and down, and I pushed us away from the table as Negan gobbled down the rest of his food, following us into the living room.

   The CD was on the top shelf, and I reached up on my tiptoes to grab it, but Negan's arm came around my shoulders, and he handed it to me with a grin.

   "If you say a word," I warned him, "I'll make you leave."

   He clamped his lips together, taking a seat on the couch as I really did start to blush furiously. He was so not the person I wanted to see this little display, and I fumbled with the sound system, popping in the offending music as Nora let out a happy giggle.

   The second the pounding bass began to reverberate through the room, I resolved to power through the embarrassment. It was worth it to see the look of utter joy on Nora's face as we danced around, and I dipped her, letting her hair brush the floor as she squealed in unfettered delight. My girl was a little freak, and it was adorable.

   Around the couch, into the hall and back towards the bookcase, we bopped and rapped our hearts out until I was out of breath, and when the song ended, we were treated to loud applause. Nora gave him a toothy smile, and it made Negan's face light up in a way I'd never seen.

   I flopped down next to him, panting, and Nora scrambled off of me and into his lap, clapping her hands together. A lump formed in my throat as I watched how happy it made him, and his hands were tentative at first as he lifted her up, holding her high above him and bringing her back down swiftly towards his face, eliciting a high-pitched squeal. This was what I pictured on so many nights when I was alone and pregnant, mourning the life we could've had. It was what I had dreamed of and hoped for when I thought he would choose me.

   Overwhelmed, I excused myself for a moment, going into the downstairs bathroom and dabbing at my eyes. Maybe it was just some primal response to seeing my own offspring with her father. I allowed myself a minute to take some deep breaths to get myself back under control, and when I came out, he was setting her down on the ground, carefully avoiding my eyes.

   "Are you okay?"

   "I'm fine," I muttered, scooping Nora back up and taking her over to her play corner which was threatening to take over the rest of Daryl's living room. Surprisingly, Negan didn't join us. He kept his spot on the couch, observing us silently as we built a castle that looked more like a condemned building, and Nora took great pleasure in knocking out of existence, the determination that took over her face making her look even more like Negan.

   After an hour of destruction, I hauled her up from the floor, making my way upstairs to get her ready for bed. Negan must have felt more comfortable, because he joined us in the bathroom, hovering closer as we splashed in the bubbles and sang a new clean-up song.

   Out of nowhere, a hand scooped up a pile of bubbles and smashed them in my face, covering every inch of my skin over peals of laughter.

   "Dada!"

   I could hear Negan suck in his breath as I opened on eye warily to see Nora looking up at him with a smile, swinging her arms to urge him to do it again. I think he very well would've lifted a car over his head at that moment if she wanted him to, and I was doused with more bubbles, struggling to grab his arms. I opened my mouth to yell at him, and I was treated to another soapy face wash, my tongue tasting like a dishwasher.

   "Okay, enough," I gasped, waving my hands blindly as I coughed, and a towel was gently patted over my face to clean it. When I opened my sticky eyelids, I was greeted with soft, brown eyes that were extremely close to my own, making my stomach erupt with warmth.

   There was an unwanted and unexpected surge of electricity that passed between us, and time seemed to stand still as it so often did where Negan was involved, and it broke only when Nora whined to get our attention. I turned away as his lips brushed my temple before he stood up, and I wrapped our daughter in the towel, carrying her into my room.

   She was out in minutes, and I started back down the steps to escort Negan to the door, but he pulled me to a stop at the entrance to the living room, fixing his gaze on me.

   "Well, she called you 'dada'," I said, trying to get my bearings again. "Maybe you could stop moping around her, now."

   "I don't mope around her just because of her," he told me in a low voice, looking down at me as I swallowed hard. "I live every day knowing that I could've had this the entire time. I'm not just upset about missing out on Nora, I'm miserable because I've also missed out on you."

   "Negan, I told you-"

   "Marie, just listen to me," he said, pulling me towards the couch an setting me down firmly. Kneeling down in front of me, he placed his hands on either side of my legs, now in a position to peer up at me. "I know how badly I hurt you, and it makes me sick to my fucking stomach. It has for two years, whether you believe it or not. I wanted to hurt you because I didn't want you to waste your life waiting for something that was never going to happen. I was never going to get out of that cell."

   My head moved back and forth of its own volition, and he let out a long breath.

   "Can you ever forgive me for what I put you through?"

   Forgiveness. The release of feelings of resentment or vengeance towards those who have wronged you. I have spent most of my adult life trying to do that, and I've encouraged countless others to do the same. I'd be a hypocrite to not do so now. But that didn't mean I could have a relationship with him again.

   "I can," I said carefully as his face relaxed, "but that doesn't mean we'll ever be involved again."

   Negan's eyes shut briefly, and I set my hands on top of his.

   "We don't know each other anymore. You've been out of my life for two years, and I've been out of yours."

   "Then let me get to know you again."

   "Why?" I asked as he gave me a weird look. "You're a relatively free man. You can start a new life. I told you that I wouldn't keep Nora from you and I meant it. Why do you want to go backward when you can go and do whatever you want?"

   "Do you even listen to me, woman?" he said, forcing a smile as he turned his hands over underneath mine, grasping them tightly. "I love you. I never stopped loving you, despite what I did."

    _Great. Red freaking panties again._

   "I was an asshole that used sex to shuttle every fucking emotion that I've ever felt. And guess what? It didn't work and it didn't make my life any better. I knew it deep down when I did it to Lucille, and I knew it when I did it to you, even though I thought you were dead. It...screwed me up so badly that I did the dumbest thing I could've ever done, and I never wanted you to know because I never wanted to hurt you."

   "How on earth do you think that makes me feel? You slept with someone that you didn't even care about, and you couldn't trust me enough to tell me what happened. Don't you think it would've been easier for me to forgive an emotionally based mistake over the fact that you lied about it, and then used it to break my heart?" I asked, trying to free my hands, but he held them firmly, knowing that I wanted to extricate myself from this talk.

   "Yes," he said simply, staring into my eyes. "It's taken me two years to come to the conclusion that I am a horrible human being, and watching you and everyone else do what I couldn't was a wake-up call to me. Seeing what an amazing mother you are was a wake-up call. The beauty of you two together is everything I never knew and _always_ knew I wanted, and if I could go back in time, I'd tell Rick that I wanted a truce."

   "Negan," I sighed, watching his head drop to my knees. "I hear what you're saying, but you've been through a life-changing event this week. Don't try to rush me into anything."

   "I'm not," he insisted, speaking into my legs as his thumbs rubbed my palms. "I just want a chance to make it up to you. To show you how much I love you and want a place in your life."

   "Well, I don't know," I hedged, fighting the increased heart rate that I was feeling. "Like I said, we don't know each other anymore. I'm not jumping back into anything."

   "All I want is the chance to try."

   He lifted his head again, resting his chin on my knees, his face was completely open in a way I'd never witnessed before. He was actually putting himself out there for me, and I was terrified. Terrified to get hurt again, and terrified to get what I'd always wanted.

   "Fine. Now get out," I huffed, pulling my hands free and pushing him away. He was smart enough not to smirk, and he got to his feet, heading towards the door.

   Once he was on the porch, he turned around, leaning towards me as I tried to shut the door.

   "No kiss yet?" he teased, and I gave him a smirk of my own.

   "You've got two working hands and a lot of memories of Carolyn as I recall. That should keep you going for a while," I said with a snarky smile, closing the door in his face.

   He didn't even seem pissed as I looked through the peephole. Instead, his hand was pressed over his heart and he smiled like he'd just won the lottery.

   I was in big trouble if he was this intent on pursuing me, that much I knew for sure.


	62. When in Doubt, Pray for Guidance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Negan on a horse. Presented without comment...

   "I look like an asshole."

   To be completely honest...Negan wasn't wrong.

   He was bouncing up and down on George's back like he was riding a jackhammer, and he swayed to and fro as I lightly squeezed Sable's side to catch up to him, grabbing the reins to get his horse back in control. 

   "And my fucking balls are going to explode," he complained, and I started to laugh. I don't know why, but seeing him so inept on horseback was only cementing my rebounding affection for him. It made Negan seem human, not always the perfect badass specimen that he always tried to be, and it was endearing to know that he wasn't good at it. 

   "Listen," I said as I pulled him to a stop, chuckling when he glared at me. "You're still really nervous and the horse knows it. You need to use that considerable ego that God gifted you with and take control. You need to show him that you're in charge. Not him."

   "Well, he's fucking stupid," Negan growled, turning his dark gaze to George's silvery mane. 

   "We don't call him Gorgeous George for nothing," I said as Sable shifted underneath me, snorting at the other horse. "But he's a creature of habit, and they need discipline and guidance, or they'll run roughshod all over you."

   When he'd asked me to teach him to ride, I'd initially refused. It had been borne out of possible jealousy as he took note of Rick joining me on my morning rides. The other man was very comfortable on a horse, having ridden them in Georgia, and he and I spent the morning hours out in the woods, setting traps like I did at home. We'd also engaged in a few serious conversations about Negan and how Rick thought he was doing.

   I'd admitted that we were trying to work on our relationship and to get to know each other again, and it left him thoughtful. 

   "Are you thinking of letting him out full-time?" I'd inquired on a dreary morning as we rode from trap to trap.

   "I'm considering it," he said remotely as he climbed down from his ride, freeing a rabbit that we'd caught. "He seems to be taking the discovery of Nora very seriously, and that's a good sign."

   "Yeah," I said, reaching out as he handed me the meat. "I think he really gets it now, why family is more important than power."

   "I guess the question would be, do you want him to come back with you when you leave? Would Dwight and Sherry agree to that?"

   "I don't know," I admitted as he led his mare on foot for a while. "I haven't really brought it up to them because they have bigger concerns, but they'll have the final say. I don't want them to be uncomfortable."

   Truly, we all had bigger concerns with the herd out by our home, and there was a meeting scheduled for the following evening with all of the communities. Besides, I hadn't mentioned anything to Negan about the change in living conditions. One, because I didn't want to get his hopes up if everyone else wouldn't agree to it, and two, because I wasn't sure how it would work myself. Would he live in the house with us? Bunk up with someone else? 

   "Okay," I said with false enthusiasm as Negan looked skyward for help. "Squeeze his side to get him to walk, and if he tries to speed up again, pull on the reins."

   "This is fucking pointless," he grumbled and I started to lose my patience. 

   "You asked me to learn, so hush up and do what I tell you. Gas isn't going to last forever, and you'll eventually be traveling this way anyways. Now, move," I instructed him, taking off into a trot in front of him.

   I didn't hear anything for a while, and when I turned my head to check on him, I saw that he was staring at my backside with a hungry expression.

   "Pay attention, Negan!"

   He blinked, giving me a seductive smile before wiggling his eyebrows, and I took off at a gallop, leaving him behind. I could hear him calling me in a mildly nervous voice, but I sped out of sight and circled back around so that I was behind him. 

   He looked around wildly until he spotted me, his shoulders relaxing as I shot him a dirty look. 

   "Keep your head forward or I'll send you out alone next time."

   Scoffing, he accidentally hit George in the side with his boots, and the whole debacle started all over again. This time, I let him sweat it out for a few seconds until I thought he was going to fall out of the saddle, and I brought him to a stop again. 

   I gave up for the day, taking the reins and leading him back like a child riding a pony at a birthday party. When we got to the gates, I could see that Rick was standing up on the wall and a shit-eating grin was forming on his lips. 

   "Still not gettin' it, huh?" he called out as I started to laugh in earnest. 

   Before we got through the entrance, Negan jumped off the horse, stalking off, but I called him back. 

   "That's not how this works," I said in a chiding voice. "You took him out, now you walk him back to the barn and brush him down. He needs taken care of."

   I think if Michonne hadn't appeared with Nora, he would've read me the riot act, but she was getting excited as she got closer, and his face relaxed into a smile. 

   "Mama, dada, hose," she said, bouncing in Michonne's arms as Judith walked next to them, looking at us with wide eyes. 

   "Hey, baby girl," Negan purred, kissing her on the forehead as she reached for me. He watched as Michonne handed her up to me, and we rode slowly towards the gates while the other woman walked beside us after scooping her own daughter up. 

   "Do you want to ride, Judy?" she asked, and the girl nodded her head, a glimmer of excitement building in her eyes. Negan brought George to a stop, and Michonne climbed up expertly before Rick handed the little girl off, and she smiled brightly as Negan relinquished control of the horse to the two of them, coming around to our side and tickling Nora's feet.

   Our motley caravan arrived back at the barn after a few minutes, and the two men took the girls as Michonne and I dismounted. While hitching up the horses I braced myself and spoke up, knowing how my suggestion was going to go down before even uttering a word.

   "I think you and Rick should go out together tomorrow," I said loudly as everyone turned to stare at me. I mean, you'd think I just asked them to marry each other the way it was received and both of them shook their heads at the same time. "Rick, I need help. He's not getting it and you might be better at teaching him."

   For some reason, and I don't know why, Michonne agreed with me, chiming in.

   "I think that's a very good idea."

   "Michonne-" Rick started, but she shook her head, shutting him down with a look that I envied. Damn, she was tough. 

   "Everyone here needs to learn, and that includes him. We need more riders that can also fight, especially if we're going to use the horses to help direct this herd," she told him. 

   Both Negan and Rick refused to look at each other before grudgingly agreeing to go out at dawn. With that, Michonne gave me a smile, picking up Nora while taking Judith's hand and sauntering off, her man trailing behind in her wake. 

   It left Negan and me alone together in the barn, and I could tell that he was working himself up into a major snit, so I grabbed two brushes, handing him one and turning to Sable to groom her. 

   "Was that really fucking necessary?" he said to my back and I shrugged my shoulders.

   "Rick's a good rider, and you could use the help."

   "Bullshit."

   I turned around with one eyebrow raised to see him sloppily brushing the horse, and I set my own stuff aside, approaching him quietly. Reaching around him, I placed my hand over his, slowing down his pace, moving his arm in a long, slow arc across the horse's back where the saddle had been laying. 

   "Brush along the growth of the hair," I told him, directing him with my fingers, and I nearly melted when he let out a deep growl. "Bond with him."

   Like I knew he would, he lifted his arm, putting it around my torso before we resumed the task, placing me in front of him and enveloping me with his warmth.

   "He's not the one I want to bond with," he said in my ear, and I suppressed a shiver. Slowly, carefully, we moved in sync along the muscles, back and forth until I let out a breathy sigh.

   "We _are_ bonding. We're taking our time."

   "I know, Angel. I know. But can you blame me for wanting to..." he trailed off, blowing warm breath in my ear, and it was all I could do to maintain my composure. 

   "I need you to do this for me. I need you to spend time with Rick," I said, turning around to face him. Even though I could see unbridled desire in his eyes, I wrapped my arms around his neck, the first time I had done so in what felt like forever, and I almost lost the battle with my own yearning. "It's important to me."

   He didn't make a move, surprisingly. He just ran his nose along my cheek, breathing in deeply as I actually did shiver. 

   "I'll do it on one condition," he murmured, and I was so filled with a need to be consumed by him in that moment that I probably would've agreed to anything. 

   "What's that?"

   "Kiss me. Make the first move."

   He said it just an inch from my lips, and I felt my eyes flutter shut. When they finally touched his, it was like being transported back in time to our very first kiss. I felt the same heat, the same electricity zinging up my spine and flowing through my body. I have no idea how chemistry works, but he and I were like two magnets, drawn together with an invisible force that I couldn't fight. 

   Everything else fell away, the horses, the sound, even the reasons that we were apart, just for a few minutes as I lost myself in the feel of his breath, the movement of his tongue against mine, and the hardness of his body as he pressed himself to me. 

   Negan was the one who broke the kiss, and I looked at him with dazed eyes as he worked to get himself under control, his fingers digging small circles into my back. 

   "That is so fucking worth riding around with Rick," he said in an unsteady voice, almost pushing me away from him. "Thank you."

   "Thank you," I repeated back stupidly, leaning against George's side, and he reverted to his cocky self as one side of his mouth lifted up. 

   "Let it not be said that I'm not a fucking gentleman because I think I could throw you down in the hay right now if I wanted to and you wouldn't stop me."

   The haze that I was in started to dissipate, and I tossed my brush at him, hitting him in the chest. He laughed heartily as my cheeks burned, and I unclipped my horse, leading her into the stall for the day. He did the same as I stepped out, and I flounced past him to go get Nora, cursing him under my breath.

   Leave it to him to ruin a sweet moment, although secretly I was thankful since I probably would've let him attack me. It wasn't the time, though. Not yet.

   Still, there was a sense of comfort with seeing that side of him. I encouraged Calm Negan. I appreciated the New, Improved, Thoughtful Negan. But I was eerily glad that Cocky, Brash Negan was still in there. That was the man that I'd fallen in love with, and I wanted him to stick around. I just hoped that he'd use that in a way that would benefit everyone, and I think that he would. 

   He had something to fight for now and to protect that wasn't based on material things, a superficial protection of himself and his feelings, and I thought back to what I'd told Rosita before she'd died. Can you imagine what he could do if he used that for the greater good?

   Nora and Judith were chasing each other around in Rick's front yard, and when she spotted me, she came running over into my arms. Rick still looked put out, and he stared over my shoulder. Checking behind me, I saw that Negan was limping towards us, and Rick shook his head before disappearing into the house. When he emerged, he had a tube in his hands, and he tossed it to Negan.

   "Put this on your muscles," he said dully as Negan studied it. "It'll help with the soreness."

   "Thanks."

   I gave Rick an 'I'm sorry' smile before waving goodbye, and we started towards Daryl's house. Along the way, we passed by several residents, and I could see the difference in the way they interacted with Negan. Since Nora and I had arrived, there had been a noticeable shift in the way they viewed him. There were more smiles and greetings rather than dirty looks and whispers, and it was all due to Nora. 

   It humanized him in a way nothing never had before, and when they saw the three of us coming, whether it was walking around town or on horseback, it was with less suspicion and malice. The image of him as a bat-wielding lunatic was starting to be replaced by that of a father who was head over heels in love with his little girl. 

   In fact, she reached out to him, and he took her without hesitation, showing her the tube of cream as she tried to open it. They were so much alike, these two, with their dimples showing and dark hair, both so full of vigor and life. 

   I waved to Aaron as we passed by, stopping in surprise when I opened Daryl's door to see him coming down the steps with a large bag.

   "Hey," I said as he set it down at the foot of the steps. "What's going on?"

   He ambled towards me, taking Nora automatically from Negan as she called out to him, but he seemed uncomfortable, and I wasn't entirely sure it was due to Negan. They had been polite if not formal with each other, so I assumed something had happened between the two of them that I wasn't privy to.

   "Daryl?"

   "I'm thinkin' that I'm gonna go stay at your place for a while," he mumbled, refusing eye contact as he focused on the baby, bouncing her up and down. "Be easier ta keep an eye on the herd from there."

   "Listen, man," Negan said, holding up his hands. "If this is making you uncomfortable, I can see Nora somewhere else."

   Her head turned as he said her name, and he winked at her before looking back at Daryl. 

   "Nah, it's not that," his whole demeanor was cryptic, although there was a hint of color in his cheeks, and I knew all at once what was going on. 

   "Take my house," I told him, fighting a smile. "Use anything you want. Just...come back and keep me updated, okay?"

   "I will," he grumbled, kissing Nora on the top of her head and handing her back to Negan. I pulled him in for a hug before he could protest, and he wrapped his arms loosely around me after a slight pause. "Tell Debbie I said hello." 

   I said it quietly so that Negan couldn't hear.

   He jerked in my embrace before pushing himself back, his face turning even pinker, and he gave a half-assed wave before picking up the bag and taking off out the door. As soon as he was gone, a full-blown smile took over my face, and I couldn't help clapping a little like a loon.

   "Would you mind sharing what the f- what the heck is going on?" he corrected himself, shaking his head slightly.

   "Daryl's got a girlfriend," I told him in a singsong voice, stopping right away when Negan began to smile even more than I was. "Why are you happy?"

   "That boy needs to get l-a-i-d," he spelled out as Nora squirmed to get on the floor, walking over to the door as she called for Daryl. 

   "Really?" I asked sourly, waving him off. 

   "Really," He was very matter-of-fact as I carried the baby into the kitchen to start dinner. Today was one of the rare days I hadn't gone to the Hilltop, and Negan followed me into the large area, leaning against the counter as our arms brushed together. 

   "Not to change the subject for a minute, but..."

   "Yes?" I said, trying not to jump to conclusions. I hoped that he wasn't going to talk about what happened in the barn, but that wasn't it. 

   "Do you mind if I shower here before dinner? It would be nice to take one instead of washing myself at the basin in my cell."

   I blinked at him, biting my lip. Why I never thought about it, I don't know but I nodded my head.

   "Sure. Why don't you go grab a change of clothes and I'll fix dinner?"

   He left the tube of cream on the table, taking his leave, and I busied myself cutting up vegetables and preparing a salad. Negan had brought us some from the garden, very proud of his bounty, and I located some oil and vinegar in the cupboard. Nora busied herself with the pots and pans, banging on them with a wooden spoon, and I threw on some soup that Carol had brought us a few days before. 

   She was still living in the Kingdom, and still with King Ezekiel. Their people were doing amazingly well, and they had planted acres of crops in a specially fenced area this spring. Thanks to the mild weather we'd had this year, they'd been blessed. She'd brought Alexandria enough to store away for the winter, and I heated up half a container's worth. 

   Negan must've snuck back in because I was putting the salad on the table when he strolled in with wet hair and smelling strongly of menthol. He was still limping slightly, and I gave him a grin as he sat down gingerly. 

   "You'll get used to it," I said, fixing Nora a bowl of soup and some soft tomatoes. 

   Dinner was a quiet affair, and we played with Nora after before getting her ready for bed. I let Negan read her a book, and she cuddled between our bodies, her fingers stroking his arm hair as I watched them, feeling a rush of love and affection for the sight. 

   When she was deeply out, I eased myself off of the side of the bed, letting Negan hold my hand and lead the way as we walked back down to the living room, and he made himself comfortable as I cleaned up the kitchen, turning down the lights when I came back in with two glasses of wine.

   "So, Debbie, huh?" he grinned as I handed him one, curling my legs underneath me while I took a sip. I'd told him a lot about Shadow Mountain, including the people that I lived with, and he'd thought my description of the twins was funny. 

   "She must've finally manned up and said something to him," I mused, meeting his very jovial expression. "Why are you so tickled by this?"

   He faltered slightly before looking down, running his index finger around my kneecap. "I always thought that he had a thing for you and that you had one for him. It was one of the reasons I was so pissed at the Hilltop when everything ended."

   "What?"

   "When you guys were uh, on your knees and I stepped on his hand. You got really fucking upset, and I thought that it was because you cared about him. Even after, when he would go and visit you when you moved away. It just always nagged at me, you know? The thought of you two together."

   "He's like a brother to me and an uncle to Nora. There was never anything inappropriate between us," I said, wrinkling my eyebrows. 

   "I'm not saying it was wrong," he qualified, continuing to draw little patterns on my skin. "You had every right to seek out someone better than me. It doesn't mean it didn't tear me the fuck up inside."

   I ran my tongue around the inside of my mouth as I watched him, his eyes flickering up for a second before going back down to the couch, and I let out a soft exhale. 

   "Before you say anything, I know it doesn't compare to anything that I did, and what I put you through with..." he swallowed as I kept my mouth shut, "but if it makes me a dickhead to know that he's out of the running, then I'm a dickhead. And I'm sorry for that."

   "He never had any interest in me in that way. He only saw in me a person that could help him and everyone else where you were concerned. It was why he brought me here way back when," I said, flinching only slightly when his head snapped up, though his finger kept its cycle. "He knew I wasn't like Simon or the others when he was at the Sanctuary, and he thought if I saw Alexandria, how they lived, that I'd be able to help stop what you were doing."

   We'd talked about what led up to the end over the last few weeks, but it still felt raw to both of us, I think, and I didn't relish discussing it again.

   "They didn't know who I was to you, and I never looked at him in any way other than as a friend, if not a brother. He's always been just a guy that takes care of people. And for the record, there's been no one else in my life."

   "I ruined you for other men, huh?" he joked, spreading his fingers out over my calf. 

   "Yes, you did."

   His smile fell away, and I felt bad, but it was true. Right or wrong, he did alter my life the day he stepped into it, and there was never going to be anyone else for me. How could there be? There wasn't even supposed to be him. I was meant to be alone, or so I thought, until Father Thomas changed the course of my life along with Negan. 

   I wasn't a passenger, just along for the ride, though. I chose him, and I chose love. I wasn't passed from one man to another, at least not when it mattered to my heart, and I reiterated that again.

   "I want-all I've ever wanted was the chance to live a happy life, and I'm doing that."

   I stopped his fingers from moving, looping my own around them, and he tilted his head to the side, letting his eyes close halfway. 

   "Nora is the biggest reason for that, and if you continue to be a part of it, then I'll have everything I need."

   He hefted me onto his lap, leaning back against the side of the couch, and I didn't protest since he made it quite clear that he wasn't trying to make it sexual. We just laid chest to chest, and he propped his chin on the top of my head, resuming his swirling patterns along my back as I breathed in his natural scent, mixed in with the menthol smell.

   "Thank fuckin' Christ you're a better person than me," he said after a brief silence. 

   "Could you try not to take the Lord's name in vain so much?"

   It was murmured into his chest, and my lips vibrated when he laughed. 

   "Whatever you want, Angel."

   At some point we fell asleep, because when a loud knock sounded on the front door, I jolted up, knocking him under the chin. He rubbed it tenderly as I squinted at the clock above the fireplace, seeing that it was after midnight.

   "Crap. You didn't go back to your cell," I croaked out, stumbling off of the couch and towards the door.

   Rick was standing on the porch when I flipped the light on, Negan shuffling behind me as he yawned loudly. I opened the door, and he came inside, holding a radio.

   "Jesus just called," Rick said, cutting to the chase. "Sherry's in labor and they can't stop it."


	63. A Gift From God, and One From the Devil

   My fingers drummed randomly on my knee as Aaron drove us to the Hilltop in the middle of the night. My fatigue was long gone, and nervous energy took its place. 

   It had only been a half an hour since Rick showed up at my door to tell me that Sherry had gone into labor and there was no way to stop it. She was only eight months along, and the baby was probably going to be okay, but in a world without hospitals, there was no backup for Dr. Carson to rely on. He had the other doctor, Emily, but no NICU or anything to monitor Sherry's boy other than what was on hand.

   There was no moon out, and it was pitch black, probably not the safest time to travel, but no one was keeping me away. Not Rick, and not Negan, even though they both tried to talk me into waiting until the morning. 

   When it became abundantly clear that I was going with or without help, Rick called Aaron to see if he would drive me, and he agreed to let Negan stay the night with Nora. I wasn't sure how she was going to react to me not being there in the morning, but he'd have to handle it for the time being. 

   I kissed him goodbye quickly and met Aaron at the gates. He'd had a gun on him for protection and that was it. We took off for the Hilltop, and I thanked him for driving me.

   "Not a problem," he yawned, turning the headlights to bright as we made our way as quickly as we could. "I wanted to check in on Jesus anyway."

   Oh, right. The two of them were dating, and I'd completely forgotten about that. 

   "Are you planning on moving there?" I asked curiously, and he smiled in the dim light. 

   "I think we're going to split our time between the two places. I don't want to give up my house, and he doesn't want to completely leave Maggie. We're working on a compromise."

   "Compromise is good," I murmured, increasing the drumming as I prayed over and over in my head.

    _Lord, please take care of them. Please let everything go smoothly._

   The gates were open before we reached them, and I jumped out before the truck came to a complete stop, making straight for the medical trailer. 

   Maggie was sitting on the couch as I flew inside, and she stood up as I started towards the delivery room.

   "Did she have it?" I panted, letting her pull me to a stop.

   "No, she's still having contractions, but you need to clean up and put on a gown. Dr. Carson wants to make sure that everyone's as sterile as possible."

   She handed me some blue scrubs and a pale blue gown, pushing me towards the bathroom, and I washed my hands and arms thoroughly before stripping out of my clothes and redressing in the medical stuff. I was simultaneously nervous and excited, and I stepped back out into the small hallway to the sounds of Sherry's moans.

   With limp hair and a flushed face, Sherry was hunched over the bed in pain, her lips puffed out as she tried to breathe through the pain. I hovered quietly in the doorway until the contraction leveled off, stepping forward as Dwight wiped her gently with a wet washcloth.

   Dazed, she seemed startled at first to see me, and I fixed a smile on my face right before she burst into tears.

   "Hey," I soothed, taking her hand as she leaned into my chest. "I'm here."

   "Oh, Marie. They can't stop it. It's still too early."

   Dr. Carson was listening to her lungs while she was hunched over and he gave me an encouraging look.

   "You're going to be fine," I said firmly. "The baby's going to be fine. Just keep doing what you're doing."

   "I'm going to step out a minute, babe," Dwight said, setting the washcloth down. Sherry nodded her head, and I ran my fingers through her damp locks, easing them away from her face. 

   "How far apart?"

   "Ten minutes," she said, laying back as Dr. Carson wrote down some numbers. She had a fetal monitor attached to her belly and I watched the lights move up and down, a rhythmic thump filling the silence.

   "Well, tell me what you need. Ice? Backrub? A shot of liquor?"

   Sherry let out a breathy laugh before turning to her side with a grunt. 

   "Can you rub my back?"

   "On it, sweetheart."

   I concentrated on her lower back, rubbing in small circles as she sighed in relief, and Dwight came back in with a small cup of ice and a fresh washcloth, laying it across her forehead as she reached out to hold his hand. 

   The contractions came and went, eventually getting closer. Six minutes, then down to four and five. The night stretched into early morning, and she was starting to tire out, wandering in restless circles as Dr. Carson urged her back into the bed so that he could check her dilation.

   "It should be real soon," he said with a smile, heading out to get his supplies ready and I helped her back to a sitting position, stifling a yawn.

   "You can take a rest if you want," Sherry told me, gripping my hands as another contraction started. "Oh, God," she moaned, leaning against my chest again.

   "I'm fine. Don't worry about anything but yourself. You're at the finish line, and baby boy will be here soon."

   "Can you distract me or something?" she asked through clenched teeth as Dwight dug his fist into her back, trying to ease the discomfort of the baby moving down the path to freedom.

   "What? Like, tell you a story?"

   "No," she snapped, nearly crushing my fingers as I winced over her head. "Just...what's going on at Alexandria?"

   "Uh, Daryl went to Shadow Mountain to stay." I fought the impulse to pull my hands away, and when she regained some control, she let me go, slumping back into Dwight's chest.

   "Why?"

   "He said it was to keep an eye on the herd, but I think he and Debbie finally hooked up."

   A tired smile flitted across her face and she held up her hand wearily, Dwight giving her a high-five.

   "About fucking time," she muttered. 

   "Right?"

   "Negan must be happy," she said evenly as Dwight's face remained impassive. "Getting you all to himself again."

   Chewing on the inside of my cheek, I only nodded, avoiding both of their gazes, suddenly finding a spot on the wall very interesting. 

   "How's my girl?"

   It was soft and I felt myself relaxing a little.

   "Missing you guys. I'll bring her in a few days to see her new cousin."

   One hour later, the room was set up for the delivery, and Emily joined Dr. Carson, shaking my hand briskly before turning all of her attention to her patient. 

   I went to excuse myself to give them some privacy, but as opened the door, I heard Sherry call me back.

   "Don't leave," she breathed, squeezing her eyes shut as Dr. Carson put her legs in the stirrups, giving me an unwanted view. Hell, she was there for me, and I came back, standing on one side while Dwight held her hand on the other.

   "Whatever you want," I kissed her forehead, taking her other hand as Dr. Carson pulled the tray closer and flipped on the ceiling light. 

   "It's time. Sherry, when the next contraction hits, I'm going to have you push out, and I want you to concentrate all of your energy on your bottom. You're going to feel a lot of pressure, and that's okay."

   He watched the monitor, and when the contraction began, he counted to ten as she grunted, her face turning bright red. 

   "Great job," he praised her, his hands moving between her legs as I peeked over. Call it morbid curiosity, because I hadn't seen my own daughter's birth, declining to have a mirror put up, and it was...gross. I mean, the miracle of birth and everything, but, jeez.

   Two more pushes and the baby's head started to pop through, and Sherry began to pant heavily. 

   "Get it out, get it out," she chanted over and over, bearing down, but Dr. Carson asked her to stop. 

   "Not until the next contraction."

   "You're doing great, baby," Dwight encouraged her, moving to hold her around the shoulders as she pushed another time. 

   "Shut the fuck up, D," she screeched, and I bit my lip to keep from laughing. I could only imagine how Negan would've taken the abuse if he would've been there for Nora's birth. 

   "Sherry," Emily barked out, "the baby is crowning, so you need to really try."

   "Bitch, I've been trying," she growled, shooting daggers at the other woman. Emily didn't seem to take it personally, and I got the distinct feeling it wasn't the first time a patient had insulted her. 

   A pained cry tore through her as she passed the head, collapsing back when Dr. Carson told her to stop. I looked down again to see dark hair and the top of a head, my throat closing up as my eyes started to water. He suctioned the baby's mouth, but she still needed to pass the shoulders. 

   With a monstrous effort, she pushed again, and he came squirting out along with a gush of blood and fluid. Emily quickly laid a blanket on Sherry's belly, and Dr. Carson set the baby down, rubbing him briskly as we all watched anxiously. He had yet to make a sound, and he was still covered in that waxy, white stuff, and he was a tall, skinny thing. 

   Red-skinned and dark-haired, he finally took a breath, letting out a small cry, and everyone in the room let out their own. 

   "Congratulations," Dr. Carson said warmly, cutting the cord. "You have a beautiful baby boy."

   As soon as Sherry and Dwight got a good look at him, the doctor whisked him over to the other side of the room to get him weighed and checked out. Emily continued with the rest of the birth, and I scooted out of the room to give them some time together as a new family. 

   It was early morning, and Maggie was waiting in the front room with Aaron. 

   "He's here," I said happily as they both stood up with big smiles. "They're checking him out."

   The sleepless night was starting to catch up with me, and I looked around hazily until a cup of coffee was thrust into my hand. I gave Maggie a grateful look, sucking it down even though it was still hot, and I sat there in contemplation as they went in to check on Sherry and the baby.

   God had been watching over them, and hopefully, everything would be okay with their son. There was so much to be thankful for. Peace, prosperity, and the promise of new life.  
Maggie came back out about ten minutes later, and she told me that Sherry wanted me.

   I dragged myself back down the hall, opening the door to a beautiful sight. Sherry was laying on the bed with her son in her arms, and Dwight was perched next to her, looking at the little bundle in wonder. When I caught his eye, he gave me a teary smile. 

   "Wanna meet him?" he asked, and I walked over to see a pink, smooshy face that was watching Sherry with swollen, brown eyes.

   "Say hello to Aunt Marie," she cooed, handing him to me. "Aunt Marie, this is Adam."

   "We've been waiting patiently for you," I said, kissing the top of his head before running my fingertip down his little nose. "You are so very loved."

   I walked him around for a few minutes as Sherry watched with tired eyes, just talking to him in a soft voice as he stared at me. It brought back memories of Nora, all snuggly in her little blanket and chubby-cheeked, sharing the same expression, as if they were stunned by the change in their lives. 

   "Be good for your momma, and let her get some sleep. She's been up all night," I murmured, kissing him one last time before giving him to Dwight.

   "They're going to monitor his breathing for a few days, and then we should be able to go home," he told me, tucking Adam into the crook of his arm. "Are you headed back?"

   "I think I'm going to stay at Alexandria for a while."

   Dwight nodded before sighing. 

   "We'll stop by on our way back and figure it out."

   I kissed Sherry, and she pulled me in for a weak hug before shutting her eyes.

   "I'll be back tomorrow."

   "Thanks for coming," she mumbled, fighting to keep her eyelids open.

   "There's nowhere I would've rather been," I promised, tucking her hair behind her ear before waving one more time.

   When I stepped outside, I wanted to crawl into the nearest bed and sleep for about a day and a half, and Maggie came towards me, reading my mind.

   "Why don't you crash in my room, and Aaron can run you home later?" she suggested, but I shook my head to clear it. 

   "I need to get back. Nora's probably having a fit by now."

   "Seriously, you've been up all night. We don't need you falling asleep at the wheel and crashing into a tree."

   "I'll be fine, I swear. The coffee helped, and I just need a shower and my own bed."

   She could see that I wasn't going to bend, and her lips quirked up as she reached into her pocket, fishing out the keys. 

   "I figured as much. Just have Rick radio and let me know when you get there."

   I hugged her quickly before getting behind the wheel, the thought of my bed spurring me on, and I drove out of the Hilltop with a grin on my face. 

   Adam. Adam and Nora. The two names had a nice ring to them, and I thought about heading back to Sherry's house tomorrow to get it ready for them. They had Adam's room ready, but other bits and pieces needed to be set up, like the swing and the downstairs crib. Plus, I needed to find a gift. I'd have to see if Rick would let Negan take me out to get something perfect.

   I was so distracted that I missed my turnoff, not noticing for two miles, and I allowed myself a good cuss. The road sloped sharply on either side, so there was no way for me to just turn around. I had to ride for another six miles until I came to a sign for Burke Road, and I made a right. 

   There were no houses on this dirt road, and I started to get a little panicked. All I wanted to do was get home, and I couldn't turn around, darn it. The lane was barely enough to be considered a road, and I bounced up and down in the divots, looking for anywhere at this point that I could maneuver the truck. The entire way was dotted by trees and bushes.

   " _Really_?" I said, louder than normal as I reached a bend that was hidden by several oak trees, but when I came around, I found out that I wasn't alone. Parked in the middle of the road was a massive Jeep, and there were four men sitting on top of it as if they were waiting for someone. 

   My heart began to pound as I stopped the car abruptly. They were wearing tattered clothes, like maybe they were roamers, people that still didn't have a permanent home. This wasn't good news, and I put the truck in reverse to back away from them as fast as I could, reaching for the gun at the same time.

   "Fudge."

   Aaron had the gun. I had nothing in the truck to protect myself with, so I pressed down on the gas and started rolling backward. The men on the truck were just watching me, and as soon as I looked in the rearview mirror, I saw that there was another vehicle behind me and it was approaching fast.

   I was trapped, and the back end of the truck slid as I slammed on the breaks, making sure all of the doors were locked. 

   The adrenaline was surging through my body as the men behind me got out and the ones in front of me jumped down, each faction approaching my vehicle. 

   I was frozen, a woman alone and unsure of what to do, and I had no fighting skills left from when Simon taught me to fight. All I could do was sit there, terrified as to what was going to happen next.

   A man, a very grimy man with yellowed teeth and a face full of scars was the first to approach, planting himself just outside the window, and he tapped on the glass with the butt of his gun. 

   "Ya seem a little lost, darlin'." 

   His voice was muffled, but I couldn't take my eyes off of the gun leaning against the edge of the window. 

   "I'm just trying to get home and I made a wrong turn, so if you guys wouldn't mind backing up, I'll be on my way," I said in what I hoped was a strong and confident vibe. 

   "And where would home be, sweet thing?" 

   I narrowed my eyes, not saying a word. Why did they need to know where I live?

   "I mean, ya look...healthy," he said with a leer, and I felt my blood go cold. This was bad. This was very, very bad.

   "Open the door, darlin'," he said, and this time it was menacing. "We need to have a face to face chat."

   "Just leave me alone."

   "Open the door!" he roared, slamming the gun against the glass as I scrambled to the other side of the truck. Frantic, I opened the glove compartment to try to find a weapon, but there was nothing but the relentless pounding of metal against glass until it shattered in an explosion, spraying me with shards. 

   As the door flew back, I tried kicking at the man to keep him away, but he clamped a hand on my ankle, dragging me forward as he aimed the gun at my head. 

   "Now I'm pissed," he muttered, bashing me in the skull. My vision doubled for a split second, and I called out Negan's name before pitching forward into darkness.


	64. The Devil's Hour

 

_I'm running through the darkness. I can hear Nora crying, but I can't see her. I can't get to her and it's making my head hurt and my bones ache. Nothing pierces your heart more than hearing your child in pain, and you can't do anything about it._

_So I blindly push my way forward, through the endless darkness towards that sad wail._

_"Hang in there, mama's coming," I cry, but it does no good. The piercing sound of Nora in pain, Nora hurting makes my chest start to hurt and my wrists ache._

_Mama's not coming fast enough._  


   "Rise and shine, darlin'."

   My face is splashed with water, and I blink, trying to get my bearings. It's too bright, and my head is throbbing, an ache that I can't quite understand until a greasy face appears above me with a smile that sends a chill down my spine.

   I try to swat him away, but my arms are immobile, tied to a bedpost. Looking around wildly, I slowly begin to remember what happened. 

   I had been driving home from the Hilltop, and I got lost, ending up on a back road with nowhere to turn around. There had been a car in front of me, and four or five men perched on top of it, all holding guns. I'd attempted to back away, only to be stopped by another truck.

   The man standing over me now was the one that had broken through my window, and he'd hit me with his gun.

   "What do you want? What are you going to do to me?" I rasped, feeling my eyes flood with tears. 

   Four years. Four years since the dead started to walk, and I'd managed to avoid a bad situation like this. 

   "Now, that's up to you," he said, reaching out with a dirty finger to wipe away the tears that spilled out onto my cheeks. I flinched away automatically from his touch, and he slapped the side of my face, making it burst with new pain. I let out a whimper, shutting my eyes as I struggled to free my arms.

   "Keep struggling and I'll hit you again," he warned me, hot, rancid breath spilling over my face. "You don't wanna piss me off again, now do ya?"

   Why did I leave by myself? Why didn't I just stay at the Hilltop and sleep there? Negan was with Nora, and he had Rick and everyone else to help out. God, I was so stupid.

   "No."

   "Good," he said, climbing onto the bed and straddling my waist. Every second that I was conscious was getting worse and worse. My divine luck in this new world had run out, and I was beyond terrified. While others had endured so much torture and rape at the hands of men without rules and consequences, I had been sheltered, first by Father Thomas and the rectory, and then by Negan. In fact, no one had ever invaded my space so abruptly, been so cavalier with my body, save Negan and Dr. Carson when he delivered Nora.

   The man was sitting flush against my hips, my legs spread out and tied to the opposing posts, and he stared down at me with a knowing look. He knew what I was thinking.

   I'd never seen an uglier creature in my life, and it wasn't just due to his looks. Only someone so grotesque and malignant could take joy out of the obscure terror he was evoking in me, and I memorized every scar, every pockmark, every yellow tooth. Sickly, pale blue eyes punctuated by blown blood vessels and crusty eyelids. Lips that sat like two half-dead worms on his lower face, and the smatterings of a ginger beard. 

   "What's your name sweetheart?" he asked, wiping my cheeks again, this time putting mild pressure on the spot he had struck, grinning when my mouth tightened from the stinging sensation.

   "Marie," I said in a choked voice. 

   "And what was the name that you called out right before you hit the ground? Nelson?"

   "Negan. I said Negan."

   He leaned down so that we were nose to nose, a knife appearing in my sightline, and a wave of dread washed over me, my skin erupting in goosebumps. Negan would crush this guy, I knew it, and it served as a calming thought to me. If I gave this demon what he wanted, maybe I would live long enough for my Savior to find me. To do what he used to do, and that was end lives. 

   "And who's that, sweetheart?"

   I wanted to tell him that he was the Man in Black. Death incarnate to people like him. But I didn't. I figured Negan would do that himself, should he ever find out what happened to me, and I fought the tremble in my lips, spitting out a few words.

   "He's my husband."

   "Oh, well, he's a lucky guy," the man laughed, wiggling slightly on my hips, enough for me to feel an erection, and I felt my eyes well up yet again. 

   "Please don't," I begged, continuing even after I was slapped again. "Please."

   "What the fuck do you take me for, sweetheart? A rapist? Hell, I ain't no rapist. I can get pussy whenever I want."

   He pinched my chin between his dirty fingers, forcing me to make eye contact again, and I nearly gagged from the breath that hung over my nostrils, a stinking array of unwashed teeth. 

   "What? you don't think I can't get any woman I want?" 

   "No-no. I'm sure you can, sir."

   "Sir," he grinned, tapping my sore cheek in approval. "I like that. But we don't need to be so formal. Name's Rocky."

    _I hope that God smites you, Rocky. You and every man that does what you say. If not God, then Negan._

   "So, I'm sure you're wondering why you're here," he sighed as if I had been badgering him for answers. "And, I'm sorry to say that you were just in the wrong place at the wrong time, sweetheart. Bad for you, but great for me, cause like I said, you look healthy."

   Rocky moved down a half a foot so that he was sitting more on my knees, and he let the knife trail down from my jaw to the center of my neck, the sharp tip just barely brushing the skin. Unable to help myself, a cry built in my chest, bubbling up through my throat before I managed to quash it back down. I didn't want to get hit again. 

   "And by healthy, Marie, I mean just that. You look well-fed and well taken care of, which leads me to believe that despite the fact that you were traveling all by your little lonesome, you belong to a nice, big group. A group that has a lot of food and supplies. Am I right?"

   I nodded, and he moved the knife down to my sternum, holding it vertically above my skin so that it was in the perfect position for plunging down into my chest. He probably wasn't going to have to kill me because my heart had started to palpitate, jumping erratically in my chest, and I felt my lungs trying to compensate, to get more oxygen into my system. 

   "Shh, shh," he purred, turning the knife in a circle. "Just calm down, darlin'. I ain't gonna hurt ya. Not if you give me what I want. See, there are two ways that this can go. You can tell me where you come from, and I'll pay them a little visit, see if they're willing to give us supplies, in which case I'll trade you back to them. Or..."

   He moved quickly, cutting my shirt down the middle and spreading it wide so that my chest was exposed. I had on a bra, but I might as well have been naked the way he was staring at me. I could feel him getting excited, and it sickened me. It sickened my soul. 

   "If they refuse, then, you'll be mine. Well, mine and everyone else's."

   "They'll give you whatever you want," I sobbed, turning my head to the side. "They'll listen to you, I swear."

   "Now that is some good news, Marie. Good for me, and definitely good for you."

   Rocky swung his leg over my body, getting back to his feet, and I took a deep breath. He walked out of the room, and I let out the whimpering cry that I had been holding in for what felt like an eternity. 

    _Get yourself together, Marie. Use what you know._

   The words came from deep inside me, and I tried to listen to them. What do I know?

   I was in a bedroom, obviously. It was old-fashioned, with antique furniture and oil paintings. I was most likely in an older house, maybe a farmhouse. The top of the window was open to allow some ventilation, but the bottom half of the window had been blocked off with cardboard, so I couldn't see anything but the sky, and the top of a tree. Crap.

   On the bedside table was a clock and a jewelry box, one of the old silver kind. Perhaps if I could get to it, there might be something in there that I could use to get myself free. As it was, I was tied to the brass bedposts with rope, double knotted around my wrists and ankles. 

   I could hear more than one male voice outside the door, and I put my head back down as it opened with a squeak, resisting the urge to look out and see if I could gather any more information. It was better for him to think that I was terrified, which I was. 

   "Okay, sweetness," Rocky said, sitting down next to me this time. He unfolded a map, holding it up in front of my face, laying his arm across my chest. "I'm going to need you to show me where your people are so that I can let them know that you're alive, and will remain so as long as they do what we want."

   I nodded once, squinting to get my bearings, and I jerked my head towards the center. "There, off the highway. It's a gated community. You'll see a sign outside that says Alexandria Safe-Zone."

   "Ooh, ain't that fancy."

   "It also says, 'mercy for the lost, vengeance for the plunderers'," I added, and it bought me a punch this time. I just couldn't quit while I was ahead, could I?

   "We aren't plunderers, darlin'," he growled. "We're opportunists. There's a big difference."

   "You're right, Rocky. I'm sorry. I'll behave."

   "Jocko! Denny!"

   Heavy feet sounded on the wooden floor and he proceeded to cut the shirt from my body, lifting it to his nose and smelling it with a moan. When the footsteps ceased, he stood up, laying a pillow across my chest to cover it up, tossing it to one of the men what was now watching me in open fascination. 

   "Marie here told us where her home is, so we're gonna go check it out. Don't jack off into that, asshole," Rocky snorted. "We need to make sure this Negan prick knows that she's safe and sound for the time being. Now Marie," he turned to me, brushing his fingers across my face again, "if you've lied to me or sent me on a wild goose chase, I'm not going to be responsible for what happens to you before I get back. Do you understand?"

   "Yes."

   It was only a whisper, barely audible as Denny and Jocko laughed. Rocky strode towards the door as both of them stepped aside, casting lingering looks on my body, but he shouted loud enough for the dead to hear, jolting their attention away.

   "Send Ricky to keep an eye on her, and make sure he knows to keep his goddamned hands to himself!"

   With that, the door slammed shut, and I was alone once again. This time, I did more than whimper. I went into a full-on sobbing fit, unable to stop myself.   
Please, Lord. Please don't let them hurt anyone else.

 

    **Negan**

   I woke up to the smell of shit. The literal smell of shit, right underneath my nose. 

   There was a little body using my chest as a jungle gym, crawling and rolling all over, and when I opened my eyes, I was greeted to the sight of a lumpy diaper that smelled like death.

   "Mama?"

   "Mama went bye-bye," I said in a froggy voice. This was the least amount of sleep I'd had in years, what with the aforementioned monkey that spent most of the night moving restlessly, kicking and ramming me with feet and fists. I had a new appreciation for everything that Marie had done alone, and I had no fucking clue how she looked so refreshed every morning if this is what she dealt with every night. 

   "No mama?" 

   "Mama will be back soon," I told Nora, lifting her up and turning her around to get the offensive odor as far as possible from my nostrils. "Let's get your diaper changed before Dada throws up."

   Dada. I was Dada. Someone's father. It still didn't seem real to me sometimes, even though this amazing little human had my dimples and my chin. It's like someone picked me up and dropped me into a movie that was half done, and I was still struggling to catch up on the plot. And the plot was no longer about me. 

   How had I gotten so lucky? I was probably the one person left on earth that didn't deserve it, yet here I was. I had Nora, and I was worming my way back into Marie's heart. This time, I wasn't going to fuck it up. I was going to be the man that she and Nora deserved. I knew it in my cold, black heart. 

   First things first, though, and that was to get this shitty diaper as far away from me as possible. Nora tried crawling away from me as I sat up, but I hoisted her up, holding her out as she whined, carrying her over to the little baby changing station that Marie had set up on the dresser. 

   Fumbling with her sleeper zipper, I freed her arms and legs, rearing back when the full stink hit me, groaning and wrinkling my nose in disgust. Nora chirped, enjoying my reaction, so I did it again to make her laugh. Fuck, it was the best sound I'd ever heard, and I braced myself for what waited in that diaper. 

   Holy fucking shit. I retched as I faced the most disgusting sight I'd ever witnessed, and I'm including the countless corpses I'd had a hand in evisceration. Was that corn in there? What the fuck?

   "What did you eat, princess? Did you even _have_ corn?"

   "Dada, no," she whined, kicking out of my grip right into the diaper. 

   I was going to vomit. I could feel it in my stomach, and I hurriedly grabbed her leg, chucking the diaper into the pail on the side of the dresser. My eyes were watering as I held her out, buck naked and smeared with shit, carrying her into the bathroom and trying to figure out how I was going to turn on the water and not get corn poop on myself. 

   "Where is your mother?" I muttered, deciding to man up and deal with it. I set her on my hip, ignoring the growing smell and getting the water warmed up, squirting a heaping amount of soap into the tub. When I set her down, Nora started to whine, and I got the shower nozzle down, testing the flow on my wrist before trying to spray off some of the baby crap. 

   She tried to run, but I held her firmly, getting as much off as I could without touching it. There was still some stuck in between her cheeks, and I took a deep breath, using my fingers to pick it away as best I could, hoping that I wasn't doing anything unseemly. I mean, it's my kid and all, but she was still a little girl.   
   

   "Yuck," I told her, sticking out my tongue. It distracted her, and she tried to copy my movements as I picked up a washcloth, handing her the nozzle after I got it wet. She aimed the spray suspiciously well right in my face, laughing as I reached blindly for her, washing her down, even the private bits. 

   When I was sufficiently soaked, Nora turned the spray around, hitting herself square in the face, scaring herself, and she let out a cry. 

   "Aww, bad nozzle," I told her, slapping it lightly with my hand.

   "Ba," she sniffled, hitting it herself as I rubbed my face with the towel, stripping off my shit-covered shirt. She held her hands up to be lifted from the tub, and I brought her back to the bedroom, rooting around in the drawers for something for her to wear. 

   "Green and black go together, right?" I asked to no one in particular, finding a pair of black shorts and a green shirt. Fuck it. 

   I got another diaper on, dressing her before carrying her into Daryl's room to find something to wear. It's not like he was here to bitch about it, and I located a red shirt, tossing it on and taking Nora down to eat. 

   "What do you want, my princess? Bacon, black coffee?"

   Too young to appreciate my awesome humor, she stared at me with Marie's eyes, and I sighed in defeat. 

   "Oatmeal it is."

   Once she was secure in her high chair, I started the food, letting my mind wander to Sherry and Dwight. They were having a kid. Though I still felt the urge to beat the everloving fuck out of D for running, I knew I had to let that shit go. It was years ago, and they were a huge part of Nora and Marie's life. They were there for her when I wasn't. A tough pill to swallow, but swallow it I would. It was just another plate of crow I'd have to eat if I was going to continue to be in their life.

   We were just starting on our food when the door opened without anyone knocking, Rick ambling in like he owned the place. 

   "You survived?" he asked, sitting down next to Nora as she held out her spoon to offer him a bite. He pretended to take a nibble, meeting her approval, and I waved to the stovetop where there was still some left. 

   "I have no idea how she sleeps in the same bed with that octopus," I mumbled, shoving another bite in. "And she rewarded me with the most epic shit this morning."

   Rick smirked, seeming to enjoy that tidbit before going over to the coffee pot and starting a brew. 

   "Judith was the same way at that age," he told me, standing in front of it waiting, like that was going to make it go any faster. "I ended up with a black eye once when she clocked me in her sleep."

   "Go Judith."

   "Whatever," he muttered, carrying over two cups when it was done. "We still riding this morning?"

   "As soon as Marie gets back, I guess," I conceded, taking a sip of the coffee, wincing since it wasn't sweet enough. Dropping in a few more spoonfuls of sugar I gestured to the radio that was sitting on the table. "Any chance you could call and check to see how it's going?'

   Rick nodded, turning the dial to another channel. 

   "Maggie? You there?"

   She answered a few seconds later in the affirmative, and he put it down to strap Nora's bib around her neck since I'd forgotten. Always has to show me up, this dick.

   "Hey, any word on how Sherry's labor is going?"

   She didn't answer right away, and I assumed that she was going to check it out, but when she spoke again it was with a worried tone. 

   "She had the baby a few hours ago. Marie's not back yet?"

   Rick and I locked eyes as I felt my stomach turn cold. 

   "How long ago did she leave?"

   "Two hours or so."

   He stood up quickly, heading for the door. 

   "I'll get Michonne to watch Nora. Stay here."

   The fuck I was. I took the spoon out of Nora's hand, feeding her myself even though she was supremely put out. The second the last bite landed on her tongue, I whirled the bowl away to the sink, grabbing a napkin to wipe her mouth, the entire time my brain working furiously. Where the fuck was she? The Hilltop was twenty minutes away.

   We were just walking out the door when Rick came back in with Michonne, and I handed Nora off to her, practically dragging Rick down the steps. 

   "I need a truck. Now."

   "Aaron's on his way back," Rick said and I cut him off. 

   "Why the fuck wasn't he with her this morning?"

   "Maggie said she asked Marie to stay and sleep for a while, but she wanted to get back. She took off and Aaron stuck around. He's driving now, looking to see if she stopped off somewhere to get a little rest. If he doesn't find her, we'll go out."

   "Listen, I get that you still hate me, man, but don't take it out on Marie-"

   "I'm not taking anything out on Marie," he barked, stopping in the middle of the street. "I'm thinking this through so that we don't go off half-cocked and miss something. Aaron's scanning the way home now, and if he doesn't see anything, we're going to get a group together to search."

   "If anything happens to her," I warned him, and he actually put his hand on my shoulder, stopping me in my tracks. 

   "We're not going to let anything happen to her. We'll find her, Negan."

   Mildly shocked, I let out a deep breath, trying to get control of myself. I nodded once, and we set off for the gates. Without waiting for permission, I climbed up so that I could see Aaron as soon as he came into sight. 

    _Goddamn her. Why didn't she wait for him? Didn't she trust me enough with Nora to take her time?_

_No, don't blame her, asshole._

   Maybe she was parked on the side of the road. Maybe she'd gotten so tired that she figured it was better to just sleep for an hour rather than risk an accident. Marie was pragmatic like that. She didn't like to take chances. Yeah, that's probably what it was. 

   It didn't change the sinking feeling in my gut, the one I tried to ignore, and I paced back and forth, wishing now more than ever that I had Lucille, if not just to swing her around to let out some pent-up frustration. Of course, that would go over like a ton of bricks in this town.

   Rick came up after fifteen minutes, standing stiffly as he ran his hand over his gun, deep in thought. I almost spoke up, but my words failed me, and I ended up shoulder to shoulder with him until a truck came chugging down the road. 

   Like a shot, I took off down the ladder, pushing Eugene out of the way to open the gate, my heart faltering when I saw that Aaron and Jesus didn't have a passenger with them. 

   They jumped out of the truck, and I followed behind as they both headed towards Rick. 

   "No sign of her," Jesus told us apologetically, and I stared daggers at Aaron, who flinched slightly. 

   "All right," Rick announced, waving towards his house. "Let's go get a plan in place. We need to get volunteers to go out and search. I want to plot out areas for us to look, and we need some weapons. Eugene, go to the armory and sign out two dozen guns, please."

   Rick had several maps that he kept in his house, and he spread one out on the kitchen table, looking at it as I shifted from foot to foot. I needed to get out there and find my Angel, not sit around like a fucking nerd marking off areas on a piece of paper. 

   When Eugene came bursting through the door a few minutes later as we were writing down groups, it was without any guns, and I was rapidly approaching my last nerve.

   "There's a group of guys at the gate," he gasped, out of breath. "They want to talk to Negan."

   "Who the fuck are they?"

   "I don't know," he said, backing up a few steps as I pushed past him, ignoring Rick's warning to wait for him. 

   Outside, there were three or four people up on the walkway, and they had guns pointing to the ground. It obviously wasn't anyone from the Sanctuary, since Alexandria got along with them now, so it had to be someone they didn't know.

   Hauling myself up, I walked to the edge of the fence to see a group of five men standing around a Jeep. They were fucking ugly motherfuckers, I'll give them that much. Each looked like they'd been subject to about four generations of inbreeding, and I scanned them quickly for possible threats. 

   All of them had guns, but not of them were pointed at us, and one was holding a radio and a piece of cloth in his hand. He was looking up at me with a smile.

   "Are you Negan?" he asked, leaning back against the hood of the Jeep while the rest of the men kept their hands on their weapons. 

   "The one and fucking only," I said, giving them a dazzling smile. Behind me, Rick was climbing up with Jesus and Aaron right behind them. "What can I do for you fine-looking gentlemen?"

   The leader went from a smile to a scowl, and I could see Rick unsheath his gun from the corner of my eye. 

  "Oh, it's not what you can do for me," the man said, waving the piece of cloth in the air. "It's what I can do for you. See, I have something that you want. I thought we could make a trade."

   He set the radio down on the hood, using two hands to show me the material, and I nearly jumped off of the fence once I realized what it was. Marie's shirt.

   "You know, if you want that sweet little piece of ass back. Marie, right?"

   It was only my past experience that kept me from losing my fucking mind at that moment. I'd been in sticky situations before, and I knew that doing something rash, like, say, ripping this fucker's head from his shoulders would only result in more trouble, so I cocked my head slightly, my smile returning to my face. It made Cousin It's facade slip for just a second, but it was enough.

   "What's your name, friend?" I called out, crossing my arms in front of my chest, flexing my muscles as Rick shifted next to me, ready to attack at a second's notice.

   "Rocky."

   "Well, Rocky, maybe you should head inside and we'll play 'Let's Make a Deal.'"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, here go hell comes Negan...


	65. James 1:1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When difficult times come into our lives and we find ourselves unable to comprehend/to understand; the enemy is quick to throw doubts/questions into our minds.

 

  
   My mind was racing in a million different directions as the gates swung open, and Rocky strolled through with his band of walking dead men. Before they got inside, Jesus took off down the ladder and ran between two of the houses, disappearing from view.

   "Don't do anything rash," Rick muttered into my ear as I shot him a look. 

   "How fucking stupid do you think I am?"

   I stalked past him to meet this asshole face to face, fantasies of bashing his head into a pulp swimming through my brain. It took one moment, the sight of Marie's torn shirt in his hand to awaken my bloodlust, and the rage that I'd long since tamped down on came roaring back, making my vision slightly red. 

   This fucker was going to die horribly, and he didn't even know it.

   Rick and I walked in tandem towards the group of men, and he held up the radio before we got close. 

   "Just a warning," Rocky called out, waving it back and forth in the air, "if you try anything, your sweet little wife will pay the price. Are we understood?"

   "No one's going to try anything," Rick assured him, setting his hand on my shoulder. I wanted to shake it off, but it wouldn't look good, so I gave him a chilly smile. "Just tell us what you want."

   Rocky tossed Marie's shirt towards me in a lazy move, and I plucked it out of the air, balling it up in my fist. One cursory glance told me it had a few spatters of blood on it, and I knew that for every drop I found, this fuck was going to spill a gallon. Hell, maybe I could convince Rick to let me have Lucille back.

   "This is a nice place ya got here," he smirked, making a show of looking around, and he let out a whistle in appreciation. "You seem to be doing very well for yourselves."

   "We're holding our own," Rick told him, eyeballing the other men as I kept all of my attention on Rocky, sizing him up. He was a short, ugly little fuck, and he returned my gaze, showing his rotten teeth as he licked his lower lip. If he so much as looked at my Angel wrong, I was going to gut him here and now. 

   "I want proof that you haven't killed Marie," I interrupted with unconcealed anger. 

   "Easy, tiger," he grinned, pressing the button on the radio. "I'll let you talk to her, just so you know that we're on the up and up. But remember that I got guys watching her, and they'll slit her throat from ear to ear if you don't wipe that look off of your face. This can be a simple exchange. I don't wanna hurt her, but I will."

   My fist loosened up slightly on her shirt, the only concession that I was physically willing to make and Rocky brought the radio to his mouth. 

   "Ricky, put the girl on the phone so she can tell her husband that she's alive and well."

   Beside me, Rick shifted his stance. Aaron hovered behind us, and Rocky's men were spread in a triangle formation. I was aware of the position of every person in sight, and at the same time, I blocked them all out as soon as I heard Marie's voice.

   "Negan?"

   She sounded terrified and tired, the situation making her voice as thin as glass, and Rocky held out the radio so that I could answer. 

   "I'm right here, Angel. We're going to get you back, just hang in there a little longer."

   I made my tone as calm and as confident as I could, years of practice like a muscle memory for me since I'd been in shitty situations before, the most recent being with the asshole at my side who I was now depending on to give in to this fuckers demands.

   "Burke Road-" she squeaked out before a loud slap echoed from the tiny speaker, a whimper taking its place. 

   Burke Road. It was only ten or so miles away, and I nearly lunged forward to strangle this motherfucker with my bare hands. These pieces of shit were roaming around our area.

   "Don't fucking touch her," I roared, vaguely aware that I was being held back. The other man shot me a warning look, and I immediately stopped struggling. 

   "Ricky," he said, snapping his fingers as his men pointed their guns at my head, "the next time she speaks out of turn, kill her."

   "Just tell us what you want," Aaron pleaded, letting go of my arm. 

   "We want supplies, asshole," a stumpy, frog-looking, bald guy spoke up, puffing his chest out like a cut-rate mafioso. "Two trucks, filled to the top with food and weapons. We know you got it, and that's the price for your lady's head."

   "Done," Rick muttered, causing Rocky to grin that fucking pumpkinhead smirk again. 

   "See, slick, was that so hard?" he asked me, running his thumb along the button again. "We're easy to please. Use those two trucks there," he pointed to both of the black Dakotas, "and meet us in the field off of 15 and 234, where the old 7-11 is. You bring the supplies, no more than four of you, and we'll hand off the girl. Now, I got sharpshooters that'll be keeping an eye on the proceedings, and should you try to fuck us over, _Angel_ will get a bullet right between her eyes."

   "When?"

   "Sundown. And don't try showing up any earlier to ambush us, either," Rocky grinned, waving the radio again. "We have eyes all over this place, and if you do your part, we'll never darken your doorsteps ever again."

   That was for goddamn sure. The animal side of me wanted to unleash my darkest impulses here and now, to blank out like I did sometimes and let it take over, to relish in the destruction and death that was so well-deserved for some people. But it would cost Marie her life, and that was all that mattered to me. Not my pride, or even Alexandria's supplies. Only Marie.

   "Boys, let's leave these people to their work," Rocky grinned, stopping when he passed by me, testing me yet again. "You're a lucky guy. Your wife smells as sweet as springtime. I bet she tastes as sweet, too."

   I narrowed my eyes as I smiled, and I saw a glint of fear in his eyes, making him take a half a step back. 

   "I'll see you soon, Rocky."

   He quickly regained his courage, running his fingers along the shirt that was still in my fist, strolling out the gates with his little lapdogs following behind him, and the second the gates shut, I stormed off towards Rick's house. 

   Michonne was there with Nora and Judith, and she leaned towards me as I came inside. It was a reassuring sight to me, able to calm me down and let me focus. Every conflict I'd been involved with hadn't been personal, and this was. I had to clamp down on my fucking emotions and approach this exchange like the old Negan. By the fucking book.

   "They have Marie," I said dully as Michonne took a deep breath, and I smiled at Nora to show her that Dada was okay. She was too young to know what was going on, but that didn't mean that she couldn't pick up on the tension that was following me around like a cloud above my head. 

   Rick came in, looking like he had the beginnings of a plan, and he waved for me to follow him into the kitchen. Aaron and Eugene were with him, the latter looking at me nervously, and I could almost smell the urine that was about to erupt from his bladder. It's a miracle that the guy hadn't dropped dead from a heart attack yet, though maybe he was part possum. 

   "Where did Jesus run off to?" Michonne asked, sitting down at the head of the table while I sat Nora in front of me by the wall, letting her smack my face to entertain herself. A few weeks in, and she was already running my life, but I'd take it with a smile. 

   "He's gonna track them to see where they're staying. Marie mentioned something about Burke Road, but I doubt they'd stick around wherever they nabbed her," Rick told her, rubbing his chin like he was working out a really tough math problem. "They want two trucks full of supplies to trade for her."

   "And what's the catch? You don't think they'll hand her over?"

   "I do," he said, looking at her, but his mind was clearly on something else. "I think that this is their scam. They've probably done this before."

   "Well, my vote is that we give them all they want and more," I said in a soft voice for Nora's benefit, nibbling on her fingers as she laughed. "Can the nerd manufacture explosives?"

   "I am well versed in the mechanics of explosive material," the mullet was getting tuned up for one of his nonsensical rants, and I nipped that shit in the bud, in no fucking mood. 

   "Great. Can you make something that can be remotely detonated? Say, as a truck is driving away?"

   "I can. If I begin now, I will be able to make-"

   "Thanks, Eugene," Rick interjected, patting him on the shoulder. "Grab anyone and anything you need that will help. We'll take care of the rest."

   Tubby nodded, shuffling off towards the door, and I pretended to eat Nora's toes, losing myself in her laughter for a minute before I had to become who I was again. This time, though, it was for the right reasons. 

   While Rick and Michonne talked in low voices, I planned everything that I was going to say and do, right down to the final words Rocky would hear before I wiped his sorry existence off of this planet. 

   Hang in there, Angel. I'm coming.

 

 

     
    **Marie**

   "I'm right here, Angel. We're going to get you back, just hang in there a little longer."

   Negan.

   He sounded so calm, so in control that I started to believe that I might make it through this. If anyone could bulldoze his way through a situation as crazy as this, it would be him. And with Rick by his side, I was almost filled with a courage that belied my usual fear, and I choked out the name of the road that had led me to be tied to this bed without a shirt.

   Ricky put everything behind his slap, and my head rocked to the side as I cried out in pain. He hit me in the exact same spot on my cheek that Rocky had, and I could feel the blood pulsating underneath as he tossed the radio onto the bed, the plastic bouncing off of my thigh. 

   "No," he said in a low voice. "I'll kill you. Rocky says."

   He was following Rocky's instructions to the letter, possibly because he was incredibly slow-witted. When he'd come into the room to keep an eye on me, it was with plodding steps and nothing behind his eyes. It was like big Joey had been given a lobotomy, and I shrunk back from him, trying to disappear into the mattress.

   "You're pretty," he'd said in a monotone voice. 

   My mouth dropped open in shock, and I scrambled for something to say, only managing a quiet 'thanks' in response.

   "Can I get some water?" I asked, smacking my lips together. I really was thirsty, but I also wanted to get his weird stare off of me, if only for a few minutes. He'd turned around without a word, loping out of the room and returning with a small bottle of lukewarm water, holding it to my lips as I sucked as much as I could, coughing when he tipped it too high. "Thank you."

   There were occasional sounds outside the room, all male, but my only concern was what was going on around me, namely the way Ricky continued to stare at the pillow on my chest. After a few minutes, he unabashedly fondled himself, making my face start to heat up and my heart pound. 

   Rocky had said something as he left about the other man keeping his hands to himself, and I started to struggle with my arms, trying to wrestle them free of the ropes. Was this guy going to do something bad? 

   Thankfully, the radio had gone off, distracting him, and I'd been able to talk to Negan, though now, after the slap, Ricky was still hovering over me, and his hand went towards the pillow.

   "Hey, Rocky," someone called, breaking his train of thought, and he retracted his arm as I stared up at him with tearful eyes. I wanted to scream at him, to shame him into having any part of this plan, but I knew it wouldn't do anything. There was no reasoning with a man like that, despite the similarities to the Saviors. 

   They were both takers, but Negan had ruled with an iron fist, expecting his men to follow his orders, and one of his absolutes was to never touch a woman without her consent. I'd already been threatened with being passed around this group, and now I had Lennie Small looking at me like I was a puppy that he was going to pet to death.

   These were the types of people that needed to be eradicated from the fragile society that we'd managed to cobble together as a few small groups, and we'd done it once before. With Negan now on our side, I prayed that we'd be successful again. If anyone knew what they were thinking and how they operated it would be him. And if anyone could defeat them, it would be Rick.

   With every minute that passed, my wrists and ankles began to throb more, competing with the pain in my head and on my cheek, though it helped me to concentrate, both on my prayers and my hopes that Negan and Rick would kill these men. If it had been even two days earlier, those thoughts would've sent me into a shame spiral, but I guess being tied up and threatened would alter anyone's moral compass. 

   I think I was finally understanding what Father Gabriel had tried to explain to me when I'd talked with him about the sight of him in a collar and carrying a gun, the complexity of it all. He'd tried to counsel me on the Lord's teaching that though life was sacred, we had a divine right to protect our family. It didn't mean you had to enjoy it, but self-defense was believed in. Allowed. 

   I wasn't taking joy in the thought, but I did take comfort. These men were a disease, and you can either cure the disease or destroy it. People like this were a direct threat to my child, if not to me, and I would die before I let anyone hurt her. 

   Since I couldn't go anywhere, and Ricky wasn't in the room, I shut my eyes, trying to just rest but not totally fall asleep. Other than when I was unconscious, I hadn't slept all night, and I had no idea when this exchange was going to take place. My brain, searching for respite, plugged me into the most delicious scene.

   Nora and I were home, playing in the garden when Negan came strolling up with a hoe in his hand and a smile that used to make my knees weak. He extended his hand to help us up, guiding our little family into the house where dinner was set up already. It was like Thanksgiving dinner, with a fat turkey on the table and vegetables as far as the eye could see. 

   All of a sudden, we were alone, the two of us, on the balcony in the dead of night, and Negan had his hands on my breasts, licking and sucking on my neck. It sent a wave of heat through my body, the urge to get closer to him somehow, but he kept me a short distance from his chest as he continued to knead my skin, but it wasn't like he normally did it. It was like he was making dough or something, and there was no pleasure there, only increasing pain as he worked them too hard, and I tried to push him away. 

   My eyelids fluttered open in confusion, and there was a large man standing over me, fondling me in the roughest way. It took me a moment to figure out what was going on, but I realized where I was, and that it was Ricky, who'd pulled my bra off and was touching me with a glassy expression. 

   He hadn't even noticed that I was awake, and I tried in vain to kick at him, to get him to stop before making my frozen vocal cords work, screaming for help.

   Startled, he backed away in a panic as I continued to thrash around, frightened beyond comprehension, and he picked up the pillow that had fallen to the floor, smashing it down on my face to get me to be quiet.

   Everything went dark, a choking silence as I struggled to breathe, my nose and mouth forced shut as he pressed down hard, to the point that I thought he was going to obliterate me into the mattress. It only heightened the abject terror that I was under, causing my body to arch up, bucking and seizing as I began to lose the fight to live. 

   I was going to die, in a strange house with a man who tried to assault me, and I was tied to a bed half-naked. Why? Why did the world have to be like this?

   There was a loud bang, and suddenly I was able to take a breath, sucking the air into my lungs with a ragged cry. The pillow was removed from my face, and I saw that Rocky was back, holding a gun. 

   Everything was amplified right then as my system seemed to short-circuit. The sounds around me were at full volume, and the details of Rocky's face were sharper. Even the warm air that was circulating across my bare skin was electrified. He looked enraged as he kicked at something on the floor. 

   "Don't touch me," I screeched, flailing around like a fish that was gasping for air, which I was. 

   "Take it easy," he said, holding up his hands as he backed away, kicking the door shut. Setting the gun on the dresser, he went over to another door, opening it up and rifling around until he pulled out a shirt. 

   The click of a pocketknife deploying made me jump, and he walked over swiftly, sawing through the rope around my right hand, cutting me free. As soon as I could move my arm, I covered my bare chest, watching him as he came around the bed to do the same to my left wrist. 

   I sat up, bending over my knees and wrapping my arms tightly around them as I started to cry harder, shaken to the bone. Ricky was lying dead on the ground, his head nearly blown into two pieces, the sickly copper smell permeating the air. 

   A shirt was tossed at my feet, and I put it on with hands that shook like I was in the middle of an earthquake, burying my face in my hands as he cut my legs free. Once I was mobile, I scrambled towards the opposite edge, rushing to the corner and backing myself into it. 

   "Hey," Rocky said, taking a step towards me as I slid down to the floor. "Ain't nobody gonna try anything else to you, I swear."

   "You swear," I said dumbly, looking at him in disbelief. "You swore if I told you the truth I'd be safe, and you left me with..."

   He left me with a dullard that molested me when I was asleep, and who tried to smother me to death to get me to stop screaming. Nothing about any of this seemed real anymore. It was like being in a waking nightmare.

   "You'll be out of here at sundown, Marie, and you'll never have to see us again, okay? I talked to your husband, and he's bringing the stuff that we asked for."

   Oh, I bet he was. It was a reassuring thought, a dark one, but calming nonetheless. Rocky was going to pay for what he'd done, and so would everyone else. 

   "I'll get you some more water, and before you know it, you'll be home," he said, thinking that made it all right, and I forced myself to nod, though I didn't move from the corner. 

   While I sipped on the stagnant liquid, he and a couple more of the guys came back in, hefting up Ricky's body and shoving it out the window, where it hit the ground outside with a squashing thump. None of them even bothered to look at me or ascertain whether or not I was okay, and it led me to the conclusion that their disgusting friend might have done this before. This was probably just the final straw for them since he'd nearly cost them supplies. 

   I didn't see Rocky again until it was time to leave, seventy Our Father's and eighty Hail Mary's later. He took me by the elbow, guiding me past the large pool of blood on the floor, and out into the hallway. 

   As I had suspected, I was being held in an old farmhouse, and it hadn't been occupied for a long time. There was dust and dirt everywhere, furniture piled up in the corners, and the remains of the previous tenant hanging outside in a tree that sat near the front porch. 

   By my rough estimate, there were approximately a dozen men in Rocky's group, and they were all as nasty as he was. None of them looked clean, or even nice. Their auras were black, like there was nothing there. Maybe there never was. They could've been living on the periphery of society even before the world went to hell for all I knew. Maybe this was all they knew. 

   The only thing I _did_ know for sure was that they were in control for the time being, and I was being shuttled off into one of their Jeeps, surrounded by the stink of unwashed bodies and an air of excitement that was completely lost on me. 

   Rocky put me in the front seat after tying my hands together again, warning me that any sudden moves were not going to be tolerated, like I hadn't been through enough. All I could do was nod my head, and I looked out the window with unfocused eyes as the rest of his men loaded themselves into one of the two vehicles. Some of them had to ride in the trunk area, and as we pulled around in a circle from the lone house that sat on this road, my eyes automatically went to Ricky's body. It was lying next to the house, his limbs at awkward angles, and I hoped that he was roasting in Hell as his form got smaller and smaller as we drove away. 

   The drive took only around ten minutes, and he turned off of Route 15 and pulled into a convenience store parking lot, running over a slow-moving walker that was wandering around the store. One of the men jumped out, and Rocky drove on, up over the curb into the field that sat alongside it. 

   There was nothing around other than two trees that sat side by side, and he brought the Jeep to a stop about a hundred feet from it. As soon as he turned off the engine, everyone else piled out while I sat there, totally empty inside. It was like my mind had shut everything off, even my ability to feel fear, and I waited for Rocky to come around and open the door, stepping out as he pulled me forward by the wrists. 

   He led me over to the larger of the two trees, turning me around so that I was facing the store and once again cutting me free, only to back me into the trunk and tie me there. My back was itching from the contact with the rough material, and my wrists were wrapped behind me around the trunk, tied again so that I couldn't go anywhere.

   "As soon as we get our shit, your husband can cut you free, but until then," he said, stepping back and to the side as he waited for some sort of sign, "you'll be safe here."

   I almost snorted, wondering what his definition of safe was, and I noticed that he was staring at my chest. I looked down and saw why, my mouth going dry. There, between my breasts, was a red light. A light from a scope, a gun aimed at me as insurance for Negan's cooperation. 

   He turned around, walking over to the other men, and I leaned my head against the tree, looking up into the leaves, silently begging God to save me. 

   God wasn't there, but Jesus was, perched up where no one could see him, watching me with a gun ready to fire at a moment's notice, and a finger to his lips to warn me to keep quiet.

   Maybe I wasn't going to die today, after all.


	66. The Devil Went Down to the Convenience Store

  
   I wasn't a human being, tied to a tree as they waited for the sun to go down. I was an animal, I was bait, a worm on a hook designed to draw in the big catch, and I'd never felt as low as I did then, despite the fact that there was a friend hovering above me, unseen by anyone else. 

   In fact, once I'd seen him, I'd steadfastly refused to look up again, not wanting to draw any attention to the tree. I had so far been completely ignored, a non-entity as Rocky and his cohorts patrolled the field, watching for any signs of Rick and Negan, and there weren't many spots on my body that weren't aching. 

   My head, from taking the butt of a gun to it, my face from taking more than one shot, my breasts, from being twisted and pulled by an assaulter. And now my arms, tied backward around this tree, pulled taut at the shoulders. I hadn't any tears left to shed for my situation, a silent voice inside me telling me to remain strong, for all who were involved would be punished. 

   The only reminder that I was no longer alone was a soft sentence, uttered once the men who'd taken me stepped far enough away so that the wouldn't hear it.

   "I'm here, Marie."

   Jesus was here. He was above me, and Negan was on his way, and I thought at worst, the man in the tree could kill me with a shot to my head, able to at least put me out of my misery if anything went wrong. Small comfort, but it was there anyway, and Negan coming to rescue me if he wasn't too late. 

   There were laughs to my right, and the sound of two hands hitting together in triumph as I continued to look towards the convenience store, a red light unmoving on my chest, and Rocky walked back over with a bottle of water, unscrewing the top to let me have a drink.

   "Your man is on the way," he chirped, tossing the bottle aside after I had drained half of it, and I watched as the remainder spilled out into the grass, disappearing from sight. 

   "Great," I replied, though there was no emotion behind it, and Rocky tilted his head as he studied me. 

   "You're a tough chick," he mused, and I never felt less so, but his words had a ring of truth to them. I was tough. I survived two years at the rectory on my own, and I survived Negan. 

   "I guess I am. I'll live through this, but will you?"

   "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

   "It means whatever you want it to, Rocky," I looked at him benignly. "The world is changing again, and you don't have to live like this. You can be a part of things if you want. Find a community, live with people and contribute. Get something in return."

   "Ain't no one wanted anything to do with me before, so why would I want to be a part of some bullshit make-believe now?" he growled, wiping some spittle away from the corner of his mouth. "The world ain't ever going back to what it was before, and you're an idiot if you think it will. People like me, we were made to survive. We inherited the earth, Angel."

   "There's a place for everyone," I muttered, and he stalked off, pulling out his gun as he and his men began to take their positions around my tree. "They just have to figure out what it is."

   In the distance, I could hear the familiar sound of Alexandrian trucks, and my heart thumped weakly in my chest. Too burnt out to feel anything I looked up one more time in the fading light to see Jesus give me a thumbs up, still perfectly calm up in the branches, and I tilted my head slightly. He caught sight of the red dot on my chest, lifting his head to look towards the store. Nodding once, he gripped his weapon tighter and I dropped my head again, jutting my chin out with confidence. 

   No one paid me any more mind since I was the worm. They were too intent on the really big fish that were driving towards us, and I saw headlights as they turned into the parking lot, driving forward as Rocky waved his arms in encouragement, coming to a stop next to the Jeeps. 

   My confidence plummeted when I saw that there were only four people between the two vehicles. They were very outnumbered, only totaling five, including Jesus. This couldn't be the plan, could it? Were they really going to just give in to this man, all for me?

   It didn't matter when the doors opened, and Negan stepped out along with Rick, Aaron, and Daryl. I only had eyes for one of them, and he looked me over briefly before smiling at Rocky. 

   "Welcome," Rocky called to him, cocking his gun in unison with his men, aiming them at the newest arrivals. "Right on time!"

   Negan held up his hands to show that he wasn't armed, though one of the uglies walked over, patting him down securely. The same was done to Rick, Aaron, and finally Daryl, who cast me a quick glance before scowling at the ground. 

   "As you can see, I got your woman right here, safe and sound," Rocky continued, but Negan broke in with a voice so low and even that I got a chill. I knew that voice, and so did Rick. So did everyone not in Rocky's group.

   "She doesn't look safe and sound to me," he said evenly. "She looks beat to shit and tied to a tree like an animal."

   "She's alive," Rocky shot back. "That was the deal. Now, show me what ya brought so we can speed this along. I'm getting bit up like a motherfucker out here."

   Rick walked back towards the bed of one of the trucks, untying the tarp to reveal a ton of supplies. I could see vegetables, boxes of what I assumed were canned goods and some guns. The other truck held the same supplies, and one of the men whistled in appreciation. 

   "Let her go," Daryl ordered, but Rocky just laughed. 

   "And have you causing a scene? I don't think so. That little red dot on her body ain't for decoration, son. It's to ensure that you don't try anything. Now, hand over the keys to the trucks."

   No one moved, and I could feel a trickle of sweat rolling down the side of my face, making it tickle. I wanted so badly to be free, to wipe it away, wipe everything about this away like it was a bad dream. But Rick suddenly hefted his set through the air, and I watched as it landed in Rocky's hand. The other one followed, and he tossed the second set to either Denny or Jocko. I wasn't sure who was who, I just knew them both from when I woke up. 

   "All right, now back the hell up so that we can be on our way," Rocky said, waving them away with his gun as the other men closed ranks, forming a tight group. 

   Rick, Aaron, and Daryl all stepped back away, but Negan stayed put, watching the other men stonefaced. 

   "Let her go."

   "Fuck you, man," Denny or Jocko laughed. "Let her go yourself once we're gone."

   "Here," Rocky said genially, throwing the keys to the Jeeps into the field, where they quickly vanished from sight. "By the time you find them, we'll be outta your hair and we can all go about our lives. Once we're on the road, we'll pull back our shooter."

    _Let them go_ , I pleaded with my eyes, catching Rick's attention, and he walked forward, pulling Negan back by the arm. Once they were far enough away, Rocky and his goons got into the trucks, hooting and hollering like they'd just won the Super Bowl or something. 

   My legs were shaking with exhaustion and nerves, and I let out a whimper when they started to pull away, waiting for Negan to acknowledge me. I wanted to be free and to have this stupid red light off of me, to no longer be a target. 

   The trucks started up, and a long second later, the first one started to move, coming dangerously close to me as it swung around. Rocky waved to me through the open window, blowing me a kiss goodbye. I shook my head, turning away from him. He was beyond saving, and quite frankly, I no longer cared what happened to him. 

   I was the only one, though, because as soon as the trucks hit the asphalt of the road, Jesus jumped down with a bag, landing at my feet, and before I could register what was happening, he cut the ropes, freeing me. I tumbled into his arms, and he briskly dragged me around the trunk, propping me up against the base. Why hadn't the sharpshooter fired?

   There was no time to wonder as he took off towards the others, and as I peered around the side, I saw Rick pull something from his pocket. It looked like a key fob and I crawled out slightly to see what he was doing. 

   Jesus unzipped his bag, tossing weapons to the others, and Rick ran his thumb over the plastic, pressing down firmly. 

   It happened almost instantaneously, the explosions, and both trucks became fireballs, rolling slowly on the street in a torrent of fire. While I watched, dumbfounded and in disbelief, the others sprang into action. 

   Jesus took off towards the store while Rick, Aaron and Negan began running towards the fire, shooting as a handful of men began staggering out, some of them on fire. 

   Two of them dropped as they were hit by bullets, and I crawled forward like I was drawn to it. But they weren't alone anymore. Trucks and cars began converging from either side. The cavalry had arrived, and people began streaming out, firing at anyone who dared to escape Hell on Earth. 

   Somehow I managed to get to my feet, cutting through the long grass towards the massacre, looking for Negan. After combing through the combined crowd of people that had appeared like Valkyries, I spotted him, prowling as close as he could near the furthest truck, shouting something intelligible and waving his arms. 

   I saw why, as the driver's side door fell off, the hinges melted from the heat, and Rocky tumbled out onto the ground, crawling weakly. Negan shielded his face from the heat, reaching down and grabbing Rocky's arm, dragging him along the pavement as he screamed in pain. 

   He was covered in burns, the back of his head weeping and red, the rear of his clothes disintegrating in Negan's hand, and he flung him, the rest of us watching as he rolled onto his side, the sound that came from him enough to make my hair stand on end.

   Everyone else was dead, either burned up in the trucks or shot and lying on the ground, and I pushed my way through the crowd once I got close enough, trying to get to Negan. But someone clamped a hand around my arm, and I spun around to see that it was Daryl. 

   "Let me go," I pleaded, trying to free myself, but he stood firm, pulling me towards him. 

   "He needs ta do this," Daryl said, making me blink in shock. "He's earned it."

   Negan was still circling Rocky, and he produced a large knife as he squatted down next to the dying man.

   "The first rule of extortion is to know your target," he said, his voice carrying through the night air. "You don't just roll up on someone and demand tribute, especially when you've taken a hostage. You watch them, find out everything you can about them so that you're never surprised."

   Rocky let out a pained cry, struggling to move away from Negan, but he was too weak, too far gone to get anywhere.

   "I was like you, once," Negan told him, looking at him with disgust. "I took from people, killed them if they didn't kneel down to me and give me everything I wanted. And I never once bothered to think about the people on the other side of my bat. How they felt, what they were trying to protect. It meant nothing to me. I didn't get it. I get it now, though."

   I couldn't tear my eyes away from him, from his confession. This had been building up inside of him for years, and he was finally letting it out. It wasn't just about what Rocky had done to me. It was about what he had done to others, and I don't think I had ever loved him more.

   "Rick, you remember Rick, right? The guy that stood beside me when you came and told me that you'd stolen something precious to me? He was my enemy years ago. Hard to believe, I know," he chuckled, glancing quickly to the right, giving Rick a subdued look. "He had the balls to stand up to me, to start a war with me. _Me_. The leader of a badass group of motherfuckers called the Saviors."

   Gradually, Daryl's hold on me loosened as he listened intently to Negan's speech, and I drifted forward, keeping myself out of his line of sight, not wanting to distract him from his unburdening of his soul. He needed this, I knew it in my heart. His ultimate confession.

   "We were going to save the world, one person at a time. But we were lining my pockets, too. The icing on the shit cake that was the end of the fucking world. Two birds, one stone, you know? Not Rick, though. He wasn't falling in line. He was bound and determined to fight me every step of the way. Why? Was he just an asshole? An obstinate motherfucker? Yes and yes," Negan laughed, the sound bordering on the insane, and I saw that Rick was staring at him openmouthed, clearly not in on this part of the plan.

   "He was also a father, and a man in love. He had a family, one that he was going to protect at all costs. He killed my people, and I wanted blood. I wanted revenge, not knowing the true depth of Rick's love for his people. I saw it as a battle for power, and my Angel wasn't even enough to sway me at that point. So, why am I telling this all to a man that's dying in agony?"

   Rocky had to be almost gone at this point, the only sound other than the crackle of the fire that was slowly dying out was a gurgling sound that was coming from deep in his chest as he twitched here and there. He had the death rattle sound going, and I edged closer so that I was only about ten feet away.

   "I'm telling you this because this could've been me. I could've been taking my final fucking breaths on the road, with no one around that would've given a shit. I could have spent the remainder of my life wasting it on death and destruction, looking for revenge and the reclamation of whatever power I held. But I don't need it anymore. I don't need any of it. So fuck off," he swore, stabbing Rocky in the forehead, ending his life for good. "Fuck off, old Negan."

   It was over, and Rick stepped forward as Negan stood up, putting his hand on his shoulder, talking to him in a whisper, the words having a real impact on Negan, whose face nearly broke. Everyone else stood around in silence, the group nearly frozen in one spot as Rick gave him a half hug before stalking off towards Ezekiel, who had been checking the other corpses to make sure that they weren't coming back. 

   Everyone else began to dissipate, either to check the area or to speak to others who were milling around, and I stood rooted to my spot, watching Negan with new eyes. Even though he'd spent the last two weeks trying to woo me, to get me to give him another chance, I think a part of me had been holding back, waiting for him to revert to the man in black, to slip up and reveal a plan to get his old life back. It had never occurred to me that he really had undergone a profound change over the last few years, waking up to the fact that he could be good. He could be valued for just being him. He _was_ good. He was everything I needed, and everything I wanted. Smart, funny, devoted to our daughter, able to protect us. Everything.

   He was still staring down at Rocky's body, frowning as I willed myself to move, shuffling tiredly towards him. He didn't notice me until I was at Rocky's feet, and he lunged towards me as if he'd forgotten that I was there somehow, wrapping his arms around me.

   Negan felt like home. He felt strong, and in his embrace, I started to cry, releasing some of the terror and pain I'd gone through now that I knew I was safe. 

   "Shh, Angel, it's all over. No one's ever going to hurt you again," he murmured, kissing the top of my head as I cried into his chest. 

   "I'm so sorry," I sobbed, rubbing my face on his shirt, even though it hurt. "I never meant for any of this to happen."

   "Hey," he said, pulling me back so that I could see his face. "None of this is your fault. The fact that people like that are still out there is not your fault."

   Looking into his eyes, I saw residual pain there, and some reserve, as if he thought that this whole ordeal had taken us several steps back, and when I reached up to kiss him, it seemed to take him by surprise. 

   "You're not that man anymore," I said into his lips, grabbing the back of his head when he tried to pull away. "You're not a Savior anymore, but you're my savior."

   "Always," he breathed, resting his head on my shoulder, and we stood locked together for several minutes until his head snapped up. "I'm taking you home."

   I winced slightly as he snaked his arm around my waist to guide me, and we made our way over to Rick. While we walked, I noticed that several people nodded to him in appreciation, and it made me bury my face in his side. I wanted to smile and be happy, but it wasn't the time. I was emotionally drained and physically worn down. There would be time to revisit what had happened both to me and around me later on. Right now, I just needed to be at Alexandria so that I could clean up and decompress.

   "Rick," Negan called out, making the other man turn around with a quizzical look on his face until he saw me, and he rushed over, touching my face gingerly as he frowned. 

   "How hurt are you?" he asked, clenching his fist. No doubt he was wishing he could've done more, but it was enough. We didn't need to add torture to our self-defense.

   "I'll live," I said in a tired voice. 

   "I want to get her home," Negan told him, reaching out for keys to one of the vehicles. The Jeeps were still sitting in the field, and I don't think that anyone had any intentions of looking for the keys. No one needed a reminder of what happened. They could be left there forever. 

   Rick handed us the ones to the little tiny pickup that Jesus had parked down the street, and after kissing my forehead, we started off, leaving the rest to decide what they wanted to do with the wreckage. 

   Negan guided me slowly down the darkening road, keeping firm contact with me until he opened the door to let me in. He helped me up, closing me in and walking around to the other side. As soon as he got behind the wheel, I slid over the seat so that I was next to him. I needed contact, security with someone that cared for me, and he was happy to oblige, putting his arm around my shoulder as I laid my head on his. 

   The drive home was quiet, as neither of us said anything. He just played with my hair as I put my arm around his waist, holding on to him as tightly as I could. I kissed his neck once, and I felt him let out a deep breath. I may have nightmares going forward, and I might have some tough things to deal with, but I also had Negan, and this time, no matter what happened at Alexandria, I wasn't letting him go.


	67. Proverbs 14:30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A tranquil heart gives life to the flesh, but envy makes the bones rot.

 

  
   I turned off the water, leaning my head against the shower tile, breathing in the steam for a moment as I watched drops of water as they fell off of my body, dripping onto the floor of the bathtub where they mixed with the water that was slowly going down the drain. For a moment, I wished that I could just wash away everything as easily as I could the dirt from my day. But it wasn't that easy. It never was.

   As I steadied myself, I opened the curtain to find some clothes piled on the sink, and I shook my head. Negan was back and he was the one who set them there. We'd gotten back to Alexandria not long ago, and after depositing me in Daryl's house with a polite request to get cleaned up, he went to check on Nora to make sure that she was okay. It was past her bedtime, and he'd insisted that we leave her with Michonne for the night so that I could get some sleep.

   Right now, though, I was still wired, the events of the day still clouding my mind, including the sight of Negan bent over Rocky's dying body, seemingly ending his old life as he snuffed out my kidnapper's. Regrets, he definitely had a few. He'd mentioned as much to me several times over the past few weeks, but I'm sure it was the first time that they had been expressed so publicly, especially in front of the very people that had been most affected by his actions. A cleansing of his past transgressions that had been accepted, if I read Rick's reactions correctly.

   There were a few finger-like bruises on my breasts, a lasting reminder of the unwanted groping that I'd received from Ricky, but it could've been much, much worse. Other women had probably been raped by him, made to suffer by his hands, his twisted, warped mind, and I took a deep breath. He'd smothered me with a pillow when I started to scream, the wild look in his eyes just before he covered me staring back at me through the foggy mirror.

   It rattled me, the recollections, and I turned away from my own reflection, dressing quickly in the shirt and shorts that Negan had left for me. My scalp was still tender from being clocked in the head, and I tried to brush around the soreness, giving up after several strokes and pulling my wet hair into a ponytail.

   When I opened the door, I could hear the clatter of plates down in the kitchen, and I made my way down slowly to investigate. The creak of the steps must've alerted Negan to my presence, because his head popped around the corner, appraising my appearance as I hit the bottom step.

   "Come and eat," he said softly, thinking that I was on the verge of freaking out, and I nodded as I followed behind him. I hadn't eaten since dinner the night before, and I was oddly hungry, even after what I'd been through.

   He'd heated up some of Carol's soup, and a warm loaf of bread sat on the table. There were also a handful of medical supplies. Antibiotic ointment, bandages, and some painkillers. Negan held the chair for me, a sweet gesture, and I sat down, letting him push me towards the table. His lips brushed the top of my head before he sat down next to me, and I felt the heat of his stare as I picked up my spoon, swirling it around the bowl.

   When I lifted my head, I saw that he was looking at my wrists angrily, and I glanced down at the red welts. He'd seen me with these kind of marks once before, when I'd given them to myself after Daryl took me. Surely it was bringing back memories, ones I didn't wish to revisit, and I took a small sip as he shook himself mentally, taking a deep breath.

   He was subdued while we ate, even for what happened, and I reached to cut a slice of bread, but he waved me off, doing it for me. Obviously, I was going to be babied, and I decided to allow it, just for tonight. It was nice, in a victim-y sort of way. Negan had always been a take-charge kind of guy, and I doubted he'd been allowed to do much without an okay from Rick since he'd been given a bit of freedom. If he wanted to flex his newfound freedom with me, I wasn't going to stop him.

   When we were properly sated, he held out his hand to me, bringing me to a standing position and leading me to the living room with the medical supplies. The earlier energy that I'd been holding onto was starting to dissipate, and I watched him with half-lidded eyes as he cleaned and wrapped my wrists, his lips curling up every now and again. He still hadn't spoken, and I was starting to worry, just a little.

   "Say something," I finally mumbled, but he didn't look up, pointedly wrapping my left wrist.

   "Say what?"

   "Just ask me what you want to ask me." I retracted my arm, laying my legs across his lap as he started on my ankles, running his finger across the marks that weren't as bad as the ones on my wrists. I knew what he was waiting for, and so did he.

   His jaw was set as he rubbed the antibiotic on my left ankle, lifting it slightly to get it on my heel.

   "Did they...did any of them..." he trailed off, curling his fingers around my skin, refusing to meet my eyes.

   "They hit me, obviously. Rocky and the other one," I hedged, pulling my leg back as he concentrated on the other one. "And I woke up to Ricky-"

   His head flew up and I stopped talking, a shuddering exhale bursting out of me as I pictured his dead-eyed stare over my body, kneading my sensitive flesh in his massive hands.

   "He raped you?" It was the highest I'd ever heard his voice get and I shook my head rapidly, lifting up the side of my shirt so that he could see the bruises that lined the swell of my breast.

   "He was uh, really rough with my chest, and uh, I started to scream. He'd taken off my bra, and I startled him when I woke up. That's when he put the pillow over my face and," I stuttered as my heart began to race. Negan pushed my legs off of his lap, getting to his feet, and he took off out of the room.

   I heard a loud bang, and I scrambled upright, running into the kitchen to see that he'd punched the wall, and he was now resting his forehead against it, shaking his hand.

   "Don't," I begged weakly, letting my hands flutter in the air. "Rocky shot him in the head, and-"

   "What, I should feel grateful to the fucker who took you?" he asked, his head not leaving the plaster. He was angry. Angry that I was kidnapped, and filled with rage that he hadn't been able to protect me. "That you were molested and subjected to near fucking death?"

   "Can't I just have my own breakdown?" I shouted, shocking myself and him in the process. "Can't I just be the one to freak out for tonight? Don't you think I feel crappy enough, knowing that if I would've just waited for Aaron, none of this would've happened?"

   He turned to face me, looking at me like I'd lost my mind, and I stomped over to the freezer, whipping out the ice cube tray and slamming it on the counter. _I_ was the one that was almost killed. _I_ was the one that was treated like I was nothing. Groped and smothered to keep the freaking peace. Couldn't I just wallow in it myself?

   "I'm sorry," he murmured, stopping my hands as I twisted the tray to free some cubes.

   His knuckles were swollen, tinged with red, and I grabbed the dishtowel that was lying near the sink, plopping some ice on it and holding it to his injury.

   "I don't want to think about it. I don't want to talk it out, Negan, and examine it to death. It won't change anything and it doesn't override the fact that you were there when I needed you."

   In a sudden fit of anger, I whipped my arm at the tray, sending it flying, and it clattered to the floor, ice cubes sliding every which way. It felt good, and when I looked up, I saw that Negan was smiling faintly.

   "Wanna break something else?" he asked, making my eyebrows rise.

   "Like what?"

   "Whatever you want, Angel. This isn't my house."

   I'd never vandalized anything in my life, and I started to shake my head before letting go of his hand and striding towards the garage. I could hear footsteps behind me, and I opened the door, reeling back from the hot, stagnant air, fumbling blindly for the light. When it buzzed overhead, I stepped down barefoot into the dusty garage, heading straight for a box that sat in the corner.

   Nora and I had discovered it when we first arrived. We were looking for some tools so that I could try to fix a leak in the bathroom when we'd stumbled across the ugliest collection of figurines that I'd ever seen. Whoever had lived here before harbored a curious interest in pigs, and when we'd opened this particular box, we found dozens of lovingly wrapped ceramic homages.

   Nora had found them to be cute, clapping for the 'onks' as I imitated a questionable rendition of pig sounds, and I had let her take one, which was currently sitting on my dresser. Pigs dressed as farmers, one wearing a chef's hat. They were grotesque in my opinion, and I pulled out the one with a swine laying on its side wearing a blue shirt that rose up over its rotund belly in an almost come-hither pose. _Say goodbye, oinker_.

   I turned and launched it towards the corner with all of my might, and it shattered on the concrete floor, little pink and blue bits exploding out in every direction. Negan shifted behind me, handing me another, the fat chef, and I chucked it with a grunt, watching as it bounced twice before splitting in two. One after another, I put all of my anger behind it, all of the helplessness I'd felt when I was surrounded by strange men and trussed to the bed. Every dark thought I had while I was immobile against the tree. They all got tossed into the corner with the pigs, and when Negan handed me the last one, I tossed it up and down in my hand.

   Her name was Pinky, and she was wearing a feather boa, her lips painted red along with her hooves. Good Lord. Carolyn in pig form. I put her back in Negan's hand, and he launched it like he was pitching a fastball. Pinky turned to dust, showering the other pigs with her legacy, and I slumped backward, leaning against the work table.

   "Those were the most hideous fucking things I've ever seen," Negan chuckled, turning around to see that I was devoid of any energy.

   "Right?" I said tiredly, watching him as he came towards me with his arms spread slightly. He looked cautious, but I folded myself in between them, letting him rock me from side to side.

   "Let me fix up your face, and then you need to get some sleep."

   The two of us went back into the living room, and I allowed my eyes drift shut as he smeared some antibiotics on my injuries, using only a feather touch. When he was done, I felt his lips on my forehead, and I moved into it, feeling his hands drift down my arms, rubbing them lightly.

   "I'll see you in the morning, Angel."

   I jerked back, looking at him with wide eyes as he started to get up, and I grabbed his hand, pulling him towards the steps.

   "What are you doing?"

   "Are we really going to play this game?" I left him at the foot of the steps, doubling back to lock the door and turn off the downstairs lights. He was still standing there looking at me with a guarded expression, but I pushed him up the steps, setting my hands on his waist as he walked in front of me. I was tired, but I wasn't dead, and I enjoyed the view as his backside hovered in front of my face. Weird that I could think about things like that after the day I'd endured, but I wasn't going to let Rocky mar this day. Adam's birthday. I didn't want to associate it with what happened. I'd rather think of the fact that I rediscovered my love for this man, that he'd come to my rescue. Heck, he handed me pigs to destroy.

   In fact, I let my hands slide down, patting him on the butt, and he looked at me over his shoulder in surprise. I managed a wink on my swollen side, and he gave me one back. When we reached the top, he twisted around and leaned against the wall, pulling me in front of him, and he cupped my face with his hands, running one thumb across my uninjured cheek.

   "I love you, Angel. I really fucking do."

   "I love you, too, Negan. I really freaking do."

   His chest moved up and down as he laughed, an unguarded, joyful sound, and I moved along with it before trudging towards the bedroom. As soon as I hit the bed, I turned to the side, watching as he stripped off his shirt, gifting me with another nice view, sliding off his pants before he crawled under the covers, facing me. I reached behind me, turning off the light, and I found his hand in the dark, linking it with my own.

   "Sleeping with you two nights in a row is going to spoil me," he whispered, reaching out with his foot to nudge my shin, and I kicked back lightly, feeling a tingle when my toes grazed his leg hair. Oh, that hair of his.

   "Hopefully it'll be permanent someday." I yawned halfway between the words, and his fingers spasmed around mine.

   It was the last coherent thought I had as I fell into a deep slumber, blissfully without any nightmares. Without any dreams, actually, and when my eyes fluttered open again, the sun was already out. I rolled over with some difficulty, my muscles screaming in protest from my shoulders down through my thighs.

   The bed was empty, and a quick glance at the clock told me that it was after eight. I'd been away from my baby girl for over a day, the first time that had ever happened, and I wanted desperately to see her. Stumbling out of the bed with a pained groan, I brushed my teeth and hair, dressing in a plain shirt and jeans that were relatively clean, pulling on socks and shoes as I made my way down the steps.

   Negan wasn't there, either, and I headed to Rick's to see my Nora, my arms itching to hold her. The sun was already warm for a late summer day, and I shielded my eyes from the glare as I walked down the street, picking out Negan's long, muscular form over by the gates, where he was propped up against them, talking to a woman with long, blonde hair.

   She punched him affectionately on the shoulder as I got closer, and he gave her a smoldering smile, making my stomach sting uncomfortably. Who was she? Why hadn't I seen her since I'd been here?

   Before he could notice me, I turned sharply to the left, jogging up the steps onto Rick's porch, and I rapped lightly to alert him that I was there even as I felt the back of my neck burn.

   Technically, I had no reason to be jealous. Negan and I weren't officially back together, but I felt the familiar stirrings of uncertainty where he was concerned. I didn't like the way that he was grinning at that woman. It was one that I had seen many times from him, and it was always a prelude to something intimate.

   The door swung open, and Rick greeted me with a tentative nod, his eyes roaming over my still swollen cheek. I could hear Nora babbling in the background, and I pushed Negan and the blonde to the back of my mind, choosing to focus on what was in front of me.

   "How are you feeling?" he asked, opening the door wider so that I could step inside. "Did you get some rest?"

   "I feel all right, considering." I gave him a cursory smile, but my body had already shifted towards the kitchen. "Was she any trouble? I could've taken her last night."

   "Not at all. We're just finishing breakfast," he told me, walking backward as I followed him.

   Nora was dressed in a sundress that was just a size too big, probably one of Judith's old ones, and she had a yellow bow in her hair, looking like a doll baby to my affection starved eyes, and I watched her as she chittered at Judith, holding a soggy piece of waffle between her plump little fingers.

   She noticed me after a second, breaking into a smile as I came over, swooping her out of her chair and kissing her with a loud smacking sound.

   "Mama," she cried happily, leaning against my neck as I backed myself into the chair, rocking her lightly as I sat down. Michonne was watching me carefully for any signs of distress, but I was fine. Right now, I was fine.

   Her head lifted up as she looked at me, confusion sweeping across her features at my swollen cheek. "Mama?"

   "Mama got a boo-boo," I told her, running my finger across the area. "I'm okay."

   "Boo-boo?"

   She attempted to mimic my movements, though her touch wasn't quite as soft as mine, and I held my breath as she clumsily reached over, giving me a drooling kiss to make it better. I had done the same to her many times over, and it warmed me from my head to my toes.

   "All better," I crooned to her as she repeated the action. My cheek was sticky with spit and syrup, and I wiped it away when she reached for the rest of her waffle, settling herself on my lap while Judith continued to eat properly. She really was a dream child, and she reached out for Michonne, who held her hand for a moment before tucking the little girl's hair behind her ear.

   They were a picture of domestic bliss, and I zoned out a bit while they talked about their plans for the day, my mind going back to the image of Negan talking to that woman. I mean, she could be hideous from the front. She could be eighty years old, though I highly doubted it. But the not knowing anything about her was eating at me, raising old worries despite what we'd been through the day before. I'd had the same feeling when I'd come across him sitting with Alicia and Phoebe after I'd spent all day running my butt off outside of the Sanctuary.

   I knew it was immature and premature, but it fed into my long-held insecurities that loomed well before Negan ever came along, and it didn't help when I thought about how he was when we met, acquiring wives like other men did favorite pairs of socks. Maybe he'd been too hasty when he insisted that I was the only woman he wanted. Maybe with his new freedom, he did want to explore other options, and he didn't want to hurt my feelings.

    _Oh, shut up, Marie, and just ask him. Don't be that girl. He just told you last night that he loved you. Don't make a mountain out of a molehill for once._

   "Marie?"

   I blinked, looking over at Michonne who had her eyebrows raised, giving me a 'welcome back to reality' look.

   "Sorry," I grimaced. "What did you say?"

   "I just asked if you're planning on staying long-term now that Sherry had the baby?"

   Nora's head tilted at the mention of Sherry, but she continued to eat, and I shook my head.

   "I doubt it. Once she's ready to head home, I imagine I'll be on my way back, and I'm hoping that you guys will be willing to come as well so that we can try to tackle this herd problem. They aren't going to wander around aimlessly forever, and I'd rather not wake up one day to see them surrounding our property."

   "And what about Negan?" she asked quietly, shooting Rick a look.

   "What about him?"

   "I'm guessing you'll want him to come back with you?"

   "Uh, I don't know," I lied. "Neither of us has talked about it, and I wasn't sure if that was an option or not."

   "We're certainly open to discussing it," Rick said, fiddling with a balled up napkin that sat in front of him. "I'm not sure how much more I can doubt his intentions after..."

   "Well, without Dwight and Sherry being okay with it, it won't really matter," I admitted, looking down at the back of Nora's head. "We make group decisions, but they're the ones that founded that place, and I don't want them to feel like I'm foisting him on them. If they can't live with it, I don't know what I'll do."

   "Just have them meet with me, and I'd be glad to fill them in on the past few years. You know I don't take this lightly, any of it, and I saw something in him last night that I wasn't sure I'd ever see. He was genuinely remorseful."

   My lips twitched, and I let out a huffing laugh. "It only took a surprise kid to make him understand where you were coming from. Who knew?"

   That made Rick chuckle, and he gave Nora an approving wink before standing up and excusing himself. Thankfully, Michonne reverted to some more useless chitchat until I told her about wanting to go out and find something for Adam.

   "Maybe you should take it easy for a while," she said, but I shook my head.

   "I don't want to. I don't want to be afraid to be out there, Michonne. Would you?"

   "No, I wouldn't," she conceded, moving Judith's plate away and wiping her face. "But you went through a lot last night. I could run out-"

   "Great! You and I can go together," I interrupted her with a firm smile. This woman terrified me, and she was more than capable of keeping us both safe, of that I was sure. "How about tomorrow?"

   "Mornin'."

   Daryl's gruff voice came from behind me, and I felt an affectionate pat on my head as he walked towards the coffee maker, pouring himself a thermos full of the black liquid before coming back over and dumping half of the sugar bowl into it, taking Nora easily in one arm when she reached for him.

   "Day, Day, Day," she sang, smearing her dirty fingers on his shirt, though he didn't seem to care.

   "No, No, No," he grumbled back to her, kissing her on the head as she laughed. "Ya bein' a good girl for yer mama?"

   While the two of them talked to each other, I got up and found a washcloth, wiping Nora down before accompanying Daryl out of the house. He was heading back to Shadow Mountain, and I pushed down the urge to go with him. In truth, I missed my house and my friends, and I wanted to go back there soon. As much as I loved Alexandria, it wasn't my home. It had never been, and it never would be.

   We stepped out into the street, and I automatically looked towards the gate over Daryl's shoulder, seeing that Negan was still talking to the blonde. He realized that we were there, and he leaned close to her head, whispering in her ear before planting a peck on her cheek. It shocked me, and I quickly looked away, feeling my face heat up.

   Daryl noticed, and his eyes narrowed suspiciously, but I averted my gaze, busying myself with Nora's bow until Negan came sauntering up, clapping Daryl on the back. He jumped, turning slightly, and Negan grinned at him.

   "You heading out?"

   "Yeah," Daryl muttered, standing between the two of us, trying to figure out what was going on, but I didn't give him any inclination as to what I was upset about.

   "Thanks again for coming," Negan prattled on, completely oblivious to my mood. "You've always been there for Marie, and I appreciate it."

   "So do I," I murmured, acting before I even thought about it. I reached out, pulling Daryl towards me, and I kissed him on the lips, longer than a friendly buss, but shorter than a full-on smooch. He stiffened, his eyes going wide in surprise, and I stepped back, well aware that Negan's smile was now frozen on his face.

   It was a jerk move on my end, and I knew it. Daryl was the one person that Negan had always been sensitive about when it came to me, yet I did it anyway.

   "Take care of yourself, Daryl," I smiled at him, turning away and starting off down the street. I could feel both of them watching me, and it pushed me to move a little faster. Poor Nora had no clue what was going on, but she shifted in my arms, calling for both Daryl and Negan, waving over my shoulder as she whined.

   "We're going home, baby, and then we'll go see the horse," I told her, trying to distract her. It worked, and she settled down enough so that I could hoist her up a little more, slinking towards the house.

   What was the matter with me? I was an adult, for Pete's sake. Why couldn't I just tell that man when I was upset? There was no need to resort to such a juvenile tactic, and Daryl certainly didn't deserve to end up in the middle of my temper tantrum. I could feel my eyes start to burn, and I wiped them roughly, forgetting about my sore cheek.

   It started to throb immediately, and I cursed under my breath, hauling Nora into the house and setting her on the ground. She went over to her toys, and I stomped into the kitchen, gathering up the dinner dishes from the night before and dumping them in the sink. Just as I was rinsing off the first bowl, Negan came storming in, right past Nora and into the kitchen, yanking the sponge out of my hand and throwing it over his shoulder.

   He spun me around, and I yelped as he lifted me off my feet, setting me down on the counter with a thump. His eyes were fiery, sparking with anger when he pushed himself between my thighs as I fought to keep him away from me. But his strength was far more than mine, and he jerked me towards his waist by my legs, making me grab onto his shoulders to keep myself upright.

   "Just stop," I snapped, my cheeks heating up again, but he let out a snarl, leaning in so that we were nose to nose. His breath was unsteady, billowing over my lips, clouding my mind and sending my heart into overdrive. This was the most passion he'd shown, the most emotion he'd expelled since I'd arrived here, and I was simultaneously turned on and afraid. He had an air of danger right now, and I wasn't sure if I was in for a punishment or something else.

   What I'd done had awakened a possessiveness in him, I think, and I felt my lips part slightly, my breath mirroring his. Brown eyes raked over my face before finally settling on my lips, and he inched forward, meeting mine with his. It was pure passion, total desire, and I moaned when his tongue tangled with mine, spiking the ache that consumed me from below.

   Two years. Two years without him, without love and the feel of another's body on mine. It was enough to make me wrap my legs around his waist and grind against him like the love-starved being that I was. Our teeth clacked together as he dug his fingers into the small of my back, breaking the kiss to suck on my neck, pulling the soft skin between his teeth with force.

   "Still want me to stop?" he purred into the hollow below my ear, and I could only whimper, unsure if it was an encouragement to continue or a plea to give me peace.

  "Mama?"

   We broke apart immediately as Nora came toddling in, holding her arms up. I jumped down, elbowing Negan out of the way as I tried to collect myself. It was futile because he brushed his erection against my backside before taking a step back.

   "Next time you have an issue, Angel, just say it. Don't push me into a reaction," he warned me with a haughty glare, taking Nora out of my hands and carrying her back into the living room.

   As soon as they were out of sight, I leaned against the counter, watching as my hands shook uncontrollably.

   I really hated when he was right.


	68. God Bless the Child

  
   My muscles were burning as I ducked down under a branch, clinging to Sable as she galloped towards home. Towards Alexandria, actually. We'd been out for hours just running, her to exercise, and me to clear my mind. 

   I'd acted rashly when I saw Negan cozied up with some blonde woman, and it had led to some ridiculous actions on my part. An impulse kiss with Daryl, nothing really bad, had gotten me a steamy embrace from Negan and a very curt dismissal. For his part, he didn't really understand my actions, and he hadn't looked at me after. 

   He'd taken Nora into the other room to play, pointedly ignoring me when I'd managed to get myself together enough to come into the living room. It was enough to send me to the barn without a word, saddling up my horse and taking off out of town, so to speak. 

   Since then, I'd pushed my mare further than we'd ever gone, despite the fact that the last time I'd gone anywhere on my own, it had ended up with me being taken by some now dead men. Still, I chanced it, figuring that if anyone was set up that deep in the woods, then I probably deserved what I got. 

   Negan was obviously very familiar with that woman, contrary to his constant bemoaning that he was treated like a pariah by Rick's people, and it had made me supremely unhappy.

   Instead of just asking who she was and what was going on, I'd created even more problems between us. Were all relationships this complicated? I didn't think so. So, why was ours?

   It wasn't all his fault, that was for sure. He was the only man I'd been involved with, and Negan was...experienced. A wife in the past, wives at the Sanctuary, and Red Panties, not to mention the plethora of other women he'd slept with throughout his life. 

   Sable tensed up, and I made myself concentrate on what was in front of me. That just so happened to be a walker, its clothes snagged on a tree as we rushed towards it at a breakneck pace. I barely had time to pull my scythe out, maintaining control over the horse as I swung myself out to the side, cutting it cleanly in half. 

   My shoulder immediately started to throb again, and I holstered the weapon on my back as I patted Sable's rump, guiding her back towards the gates. As much as I wanted to stay outside forever, I had to go back and face Negan, assuming he was even speaking to me at this point. 

   When we got close to the walls, I saw that Michonne was standing up on the top with her hands on her hips, a disgruntled expression to match her posture. Great. 

   She waved for someone to open the metal gate, and I kept my head down as I passed through, not breaking my stride. Hopefully, she would just let it pass and lecture me the following day when we went out to find a gift for Adam. 

   To my surprise, Negan and Nora were near the barn waiting for me, and I pasted a smile on my face, looking only at my daughter. I knew my cheeks were red, both from exertion and nervousness, but my little girl was all smiles. As for Negan, I didn't dare look. They were leaning up against a wooden post, and I slowed the horse down so that we were moving casually, stopping just feet from the two of them.

   "Mama!"

   "Hello, my darling girl," I said with false enthusiasm, reaching my arms out to take her. Negan handed her off when I turned my head, securing her in front of me as Sable twisted her head towards him. I wouldn't be surprised if she tried to bite him again, and he wisely stepped back out of her reach. 

   Nora hunched over, patting Sable like she usually did, and the mare started to walk slowly, making Nora squeal with joy. Pretty soon, I was going to have to find her a helmet so that I could take her on a more sustained ride since she seemed to love it so. 

   Rick was in the barn cleaning the stalls when we moseyed in, and I was grateful. I didn't want to subject myself to a tense environment with just Negan in there, and I knew he'd put on his best face with the other man around. 

   "I can't believe she's so comfortable on a horse," he mused, leaning against the fork to take a break. 

   "She loves it. She always has."

   He set it aside before Negan got there, taking Nora and holding out a hand to help me down. I waved him off with a grin, hopping down with a flourish for Nora's benefit. While he held her, I secured the horse, hauling out supplies to wash her down. 

   "I'll wash yours, too, if you clean Sable's stall," I offered as Rick wrinkled his nose. "Come on," I wheedled, backing away with the bucket to fill it with water. 

   "Fine," he sighed, grinning when I bumped into Negan. 

   Turning around, I saw that he still looked pissed, and I dipped my head.

   "Sorry."

  " _Are_ you?"

   It was cool, and I stepped around him, fighting the urge to cry. Like I didn't feel bad enough. I was so discombobulated that I turned the hose on too much, and water splashed all over my legs. I nearly groaned in frustration, lugging it back when it was full and setting it down near the horse, flinging the grooming mitt into the water and bending over. 

   Behind me, Negan and Rick chatted, making plans to ride the next day, and I worked quickly, cleaning Sable down and bringing the hose over to rinse her off. She was ornery, fidgeting while I worked, and I took a deep breath to try and center myself. It was like a fiery orb was hovering behind me, distracting and upsetting me, and I tried to just let it go. 

   Once her brown hair was shiny and tangle-free I threw caution to the wind and let her out into the paddock to run around while Rick cleaned her stall. She immediately started pawing at the dirt, flicking it all over her legs, and I had half a mind to just give up. But a promise is a promise, and I started on horse number two, Rick's little brown mare. 

   She was much easier to groom, giving me no trouble, and I got so caught up in my task that I didn't notice that Negan and Rick had left. I really hated when he was upset with me. It made me feel sick and on edge, the worst time being when I'd helped Sherry and Dwight get away. There was something about him seeing me in such an unflattering light that tore at my heart and my soul. I was nowhere near perfect, and I held no illusions that I wasn't flawed. We all were, but for some reason, I wanted him to think of me as above petty, trivial things like jealousy. I should be by this point. Since he'd been back in my life, he hadn't so much as put a toe out of line. 

   When horse number two was done, I started on Gorgeous George, washing him down and brushing his pretty mane until he looked like a movie star. A horse movie star, anyway. 

   "You're so lucky you're handsome," I muttered, smacking his backside to send him into the fresh air. 

   "Am I now?"

   "Mother Mary," I yelped, jumping at least a foot in the air, clutching my heart as I turned around. 

   Negan was sitting on a bale of hay, looking at me with narrowed eyes, and I put my hands behind my back so that he wouldn't see them shaking. 

   "Where's Nora?" I asked, staring at a spot above his head, and he looked casually at his nails, rubbing them on his shirt like he was in some fifties greaser movie or something. 

   "She's napping with Judith. We need to talk."

   Oh, God, the four worst words in the universe besides 'the dead are walking'. My stomach was flipping around inside my body, and I nodded faintly. He stood up and started out of the barn, not once looking back to see if I was following him.

   By the time we got back to the house, I was on the verge of tears, ready to confess to the murder of Jimmy Hoffa if he asked me to. I was no stranger to his line of interrogation, but that didn't mean I was any good at dealing with it. If only I could go back to before I kissed Daryl.

   Negan opened up the door, letting me walk in first, and I perched on the couch after I kicked off my boots, curling my legs up to my chest, staring at my knees as he paced in front of me, moving so fast that I felt a slight breeze each time he passed me.

   "If you had bothered to talk to me, I would've explained to you who that girl was and why I was talking to her, " he stated calmly. "I would have told you that her name is Sam, and she's married to Ken."

   "Ken?"

   "Ken," he affirmed, keeping his back to me. "Ken's the guy that's been my warden for the past several months."

   "Oh." It was a small, insignificant sound, and I felt like melting into the floor. 

   "She's always been cool with me, one of the few here who has. I was telling her about you and Nora since she's been out on a run for the past few weeks, and she was fucking thrilled for me, to say the least."

   Negan sat down on the other side of the couch, keeping a healthy distance between our bodies, and I could feel my eyes filling up, but I didn't move or draw attention to it. 

   "I can't read your mind, Marie, so if you have a problem, you need to learn to communicate with me. How can we rebuild what we had if we don't learn to trust each other? If you don't learn to trust me?"

   "I know that," I said, sniffling so that my nose didn't start to run. "I'm sorry. It just..."

   "Just what?" he prodded when I didn't continue. 

   "Just...you're the only man I've ever been with. The only one I've ever loved and I-" I fumbled with my words, shutting my eyes so that I could spit it out. I had to let him know one of the things that bothered me. "You're the last man I've slept with, but I'm...I'm not the last person that _you've_ slept with."

   The silence grew as the two of us sat there, a thick, swollen sort of void, and I felt warm fingers brush my ankle. 

   "Carolyn used to taunt me. Torture me with words, really," I muttered, sniffling again. "She would tell me all the time that I wasn't enough for you. That you needed someone that could satisfy you, a real woman. And then with the way our personal relationship ended, it only seemed to prove to me that she was right."

   "Carolyn didn't know a fucking thing about my feelings for you. And the kitchen girl was a mistake. If I could go back and undo it, I would."

   "I'm not asking you to. I don't want that to hang over your head for the rest of your life, I swear. There has to be a clean slate between us, I know that."

   "Then tell me what to do," he implored, scooting closer to me. "Tell me what it'll take for you to believe that I've changed. I'll never hurt you."

   "Don't give up on me," I told him, finally meeting his eyes. "When I act like an idiot, tell me, but don't shut me out just because I do something stupid. I don't have any experience to draw on since you're the only man I've ever been with. So, point out when I'm wrong, and try to understand why I do the dumb stuff that I do."

   Negan squinted as I stared at him, willing him to understand. 

   "I've been in a lot of relationships, Marie. I know that, and not one of them were healthy. They were fucked up versions of what I thought I deserved. I don't want that with you." He cupped my chin with his fingers, forcing me to listen. "I know we can't rebuild our trust overnight, and I don't expect you to let go of what happened like it doesn't matter. God knows I wouldn't. But listen to my words as well as judging my actions, okay?"

   "I will," I promised, tapping my fingers against my shin, averting my gaze. "I've just spent so long going over the 'what if's', you know? What if I had tried harder to talk to you? What if I hadn't run? Would we be here now, or would we have never gotten to such a place?"

   "There's no way to know," he said with conviction, gently prying my arms from my legs, sliding over so that we were touching, and he pulled me so that I was straddling his lap. I could feel the warmth from his palms as they massaged the spot just above my backside. The closeness, the intimacy between our two bodies was tangible, and I linked my fingers behind the back of his head before nuzzling his neck. "The only thing we've got going for us is the fact that we're here together, now, and I love the shit outta you. What you saw this morning was my fucking pride in being able to tell Sam that you and Nora are mine. You're the best things to ever happen to me, and if it took two years alone in a shitty cell to get it, it's all good. Do I wish I was there with you the whole time? Hell fucking yeah. But I'll take _this_ any day over a goddamned factory full of people that would have slit my throat in my sleep if they were given half a chance."

  I took a deep breath as he continued his ministrations on my back, kissing him softly just under his jaw. 

   "Can you promise me one thing, Negan?" I asked, praying with all my heart that he could.

   "What's that?"

   "If anything changes, anything at all, please talk to me. I'd rather know up front that you want to move on and not after the fact. I'd never hate you or blame you, and I'd never keep you away from Nora. I just want you to be happy."

   He tensed up underneath me, and I braced myself for a harsh rebuke, but he just continued his small strokes before turning his head to kiss my cheek. 

   "I promise. As long as you promise to never fucking kiss Daryl again."

   I felt my entire body flood with the heat of embarrassment, and I sat up to see him giving me a half-smile, but there was still some hurt in his eyes. 

   "I'm sorry," I apologized again, wanting to bury my head and never come out. "I really am. He must be so angry."

   "Yeah, he's not angry at you, Angel. After you walked away he told that whatever the fuck I did to upset you, I'd better fix it."

   Oh, poor Negan. He always gets the blame for everything. 

   "I don't give a shit what anyone else thinks of me, Marie. I only care about your opinion."

   "I love you, and if it's okay with you, everything else we can figure out as we go," I whispered into his ear, feeling him shudder underneath me. We had a child together, he'd told me he loved me countless times, yet each time he had a physical reaction to something I said or dead, it knocked me off-kilter. Me, Sister Marie, patron saint of the good girls, could make the man in black shiver with pleasure. 

   It made my heart catch fire and my skin boil all at once, the desire that he'd stirred up in me earlier rebounding like the snap from a rubber band. Parting my lips, I let my tongue brush his earlobe, sucking it between my teeth as he unconsciously lifted his hips, increasing the pace of his fingers as he lowered them so that they were cupping my cheeks, lifting me up and lowering me back down. 

   A tingling heat started a slow burn between my legs, but I wasn't the only one that was aroused. Negan was getting hard, the evidence pulsing against my hip bone, and I started to move slowly back and forth, encouraging the reaction. A low rumbling sound began to build in his chest, prompting me to kiss my way along his stubbled jaw towards his lips. 

   When our tongues touched, it made my body pulse with anticipation, wanting nothing more than a true connection with his, and I reached between us, fumbling with the button to his pants. I rose on my knees to get more access, and Negan tilted his head back onto the couch, licking his lips. 

    _Screw it_ , I thought, backing myself to the edge of the cushion and rearranging myself on the floor between his legs. He never opened his eyes, but I heard his breath quickening as he assisted me with getting his pants off after removing his shirt. Shoving them onto the carpet, I tucked my fingers into the waistband of his briefs, nearly cooing when I brushed my fingers along his happy trail, leaning over to kiss it. 

   He had a musky, masculine smell, and I was darned close to just ripping the cotton material off of his body, eventually getting it past his knees and off of his legs. 

   If there was ever a more sensual specimen alive, I'd be completely shocked. Dark haired, long, muscular limbs, and bronzed skin were spread out on the couch, a temptation too much to resist, especially when he gazed at me briefly with dark, lusty eyes. 

   Starting at his navel, I ran my tongue along the grooves of his stomach, unknotting his hands from my hair since he was gripping it where the sore spot was. A small price to pay, and I pushed his thighs further apart, moving my hands up the confines of his legs, the wiry hair and his muscles moving under my palms. 

   He was hard, erect against his abdomen, and I licked it slowly from bottom to top, nearly bursting with lust when he let out a deep moan.

   "Angel," he growled, gripping the back of my neck, "don't fucking tease me right now."

   I was tempted to, but there was both a plea and a warning encased in his tone, and I didn't want to pay for it later, so I took him into my mouth, gagging lightly when he thrust himself all of the way in. It had been a long time since I'd done this, and I'd forgotten just how large he was. 

   My eyes watered as he breached the back muscles of my throat, and I drew my head back slightly so that I could breathe, gripping the base with my hand and twisting it. Negan's hips jutted up automatically, placing himself further inside, and I let him take the lead as he swore under his breath.

   "So fucking long," he groaned, arching his back every time I hollowed my cheeks against his length, feeling the fluid as it hit my tongue. I'd never been the best at this part of our lovemaking, but what I lacked in talent I made up for in enthusiasm, and I increased the bobbing of my head, tuning out the stinging pain from my swollen cheek. 

   A few grazing touches from my fingernails on his balls caused him to let out a sizzling sound, and he began to buck frantically, holding my head in place until he let out a resounding groan, spilling into my mouth. It was hot, salty and enormously arousing, the power that I literally held in my hands, and I swirled my tongue around the throbbing skin, sucking away every drop before finally sitting back on my heels, panting. 

   Negan's head was still thrown back, a blush coating his cheeks as he came down from the sensation, and I kissed his left thigh, moving my way up his body until I was forced to get to my feet to reach his neck. The skin there was damp, and I lapped at the salty and tangy spot, straddling him again. This time, his hold on me was looser, a definite relaxation that overcame his entire demeanor. 

   He was satisfied, but I definitely wasn't, and I couldn't help the small gyrations that I made with my hips as I worked my way towards his lips. 

   "I'm good, Angel, but I'm not _that_ good," he murmured, running his lips across mine. "I'm going to need some recovery time."

   "It's fine." I tried to keep the frustration and disappointment out of my voice, but he tilted his face to look up at me with sleepy eyes, placing a chaste kiss on the tip of my chin. 

   "Poor baby," he teased me, a glint forming in his eyes. "You need it bad, don't you?"

   "Almost as bad as I did when I was pregnant," I told him as his eyes widened slightly, his grip on my hips becoming stronger, encouraging my movements. "You have no idea how many times I thought about you. It was almost physically painful how turned on I was all the time."

   "Jesus, you're fucking killing me. Are you telling me I could've gotten it daily?"

   "Probably several times a day," I teased, digging my hips in and rubbing my breasts against his chest. The urge to rip my shirt off and chuck my bra was increasing as I pictured his chest hair rubbing against me, teasing and tickling me, and I extracted my arms from around his shoulders to do just that.

   Unfortunately, there was a knock on the door before my shirt was even halfway off, and I nearly landed on my butt as Negan pushed me off of him, scrambling for his clothes.

   "Just a minute," I called out, tossing him his shirt before straightening my appearance. When I looked down, I saw a distinct wet spot on the front of my jeans, and I pulled my top down as far as it could go, smoothing my hair back before walking towards the door, fighting the ache that had my core throbbing. 

   Negan ducked into the kitchen half-dressed, and I opened the door to see Carl holding Nora who was rubbing her eyes with a petulant look on her face.

   "She woke up and was calling for you," Carl said, handing her over as if she were a bomb that was about to explode. 

   Nora was warm to the touch, and she immediately snuggled into my neck, whining unhappily as she tugged at her cheek.

   "Thanks, Carl," I told him, rubbing Nora's back. "Tell your mom and dad I appreciate them watching her."

   "No problem," he shrugged before walking away. Before I could close the door, he doubled back, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he moved from foot to foot. "Uh, I'm heading back to the Hilltop for a few days. Is there anything you want to pass along to Sherry?"

   I swear, he had to be the sweetest kid in existence, and I gave him a smile. 

   "Just tell my girl that I'll be there tomorrow."

   "Sure thing."

   With a wave, he took off, holding his hat on his head to keep it from blowing off. The wind had picked up, and it smelled damp outside like a storm was coming. Nora and I watched him until he disappeared around the corner, and then I carried her back inside, going immediately into the kitchen. 

   She was still whimpering when Negan came over to us, looking at her with worried eyes. 

   "What's the matter, princess?" he asked, running his hand over her forehead as she started to cry. "Don't you feel good?"

   "Mama," she whimpered, rubbing her cheek on my shoulder, making my chest thump. It sucked to see your child in pain, and I carried her over to the table, sitting down and rocking her for a few minutes until she calmed down. 

   I had to pull her off of me as I got an idea of what the problem might be, and I stuck my finger in her mouth, risking a bite as I ran the pad of my thumb along her gums, feeling a swollen bump. She began to wail, jerking her head back, and I let out a disgruntled sigh.

   "Can you do me a favor?" I asked Negan as he hovered over the two of us, trying to be of use but only crowding my space. "Wet a couple of washcloths and put them in the freezer, please, and then grab me the baby's aspirin from the upstairs bathroom?"

   "What's wrong with her?" he pressed and I let her lay against my chest as I let out another loud breath, slumping back in the chair. 

   "She's teething. Her molars are coming in, and we're about to be in for a very crappy night."

   He smiled at me, and I have to say, it was very disconcerting until he spoke over his shoulder as he went up the steps. 

   "I guess it's a good thing I got mine, then. Thanks for the couch fun, Angel."

   My mouth popped open in surprise at his retort until I figured out what he was saying, and I quickly felt a rush of frustration. 

   Thanks, indeed.


	69. God Bless the Mothers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The good news: I'm back! (for anyone that cares)

   I wiped the puddle of drool off of my shirt as I transferred Nora to my hip. She was leaking like a faucet since she was teething, and we both probably needed to wear bibs. It had been a long night, but I would do anything for my girl, and that included sleeping propped up with her on my chest.

   Any time I tried to lay her down, she'd wake up and cling to me, so I finally gave up, taking her downstairs and just dozing in the reclining chair. Negan offered to do it, but I told him to get some rest so that I could catch up on my sleep after visiting with Sherry. 

   Dawn arrived, and he took off to meet with Rick to ride. My plan to get them to spend time together outside the walls was finally coming to fruition, and it wasn't just to encourage some male bonding. Negan really did need to learn how to ride, and he didn't take what I said seriously. Even though he knew I was good at it, he just wasn't responding to what I tried to show him. 

   It was sexist, in my opinion, but having another man do it was probably going to make Negan pay better attention. That stupid male rivalry thing would foster a better environment than a sweet ex-nun that was falling back in love with him. 

   I'd given him some oral love the night before, and he'd slept like a rock. Not me. In addition to a cranky toddler, I was sexually frustrated, and part of the night was spent trying to cool down my libido. Thoughts of Negan reclining on the couch completely nude kept popping up in my mind, and I'd have to take a deep breath, remembering that I had a child on my chest and that there was a storm raging outside. There was no way that my particular thirst was going to be sated anytime soon. 

   He knew me better than I knew myself, and when he came down in a tight pair of jeans and an even tighter shirt that must have been Daryl's, I had to look away so that I didn't do something stupid like mount him in front of Nora. Negan couldn't just let it lie, though, and he bent over in front of me, flashing his butt as he put on his shoes, glancing back with a sexy grin when I started to get flushed.

   "You look... _frustrated_ , Angel," he said as he strode towards me, and I licked my dry lips in irritation. "Did the princess keep you up all night, or was it something else?"

   I wasn't going to dignify him with a response, and I handed him the baby so that I could go up and brush my teeth before I left, glaring at myself in the mirror. Why he enjoyed teasing me I'll never understand, but as soon as I was presentable, I padded back down the steps to find him holding Nora and humming softly as she gave me a sleepy look. 

   The sight of the two of them together did nothing to impede my arousal. In fact, it only made me want to jump on his face, embarrassingly enough, and I wondered what the heck was wrong with me. I'd been fine since the pregnancy, and I'd chalked that up to hormones. There was something about him that was getting to me, a primal need to mate with him in a way, and I called on my previous sense of self-control, squashing down the image of his head between my legs, walking over with a shaky gait.

   "You'd better get going," I said brusquely, taking Nora back, and he bent down to kiss me, lingering longer than necessary until the baby head-butted him accidentally, though he shrugged it off, placing a peck on the top of her head. 

   As soon as he was out the door, I fanned myself off as I carried Nora to the kitchen, fixing her some pureed fruit that was in the fridge, hoping it soothed her sore gums. As she picked at it, I gazed out the window at the leaves and twigs that littered the yard, and when breakfast was over, I threw a pair of shoes on both of us, heading out back to straighten it up. 

   It gave Nora a chance to run around, distracting her from the ache in her mouth, and she helped me pick up the brush, tossing in a leaf at a time as I followed behind her with a garbage bag, wondering idly what would happen when we ran out of everyday items like them. Would humans revert to pre-industrial ways, using cloths as toilet paper and tampons?

   Shuddering at the thought, I tried to teach Nora some new words like 'stick' and 'grass', but she was too occupied with the dew and the dirt, ignoring me. Motherhood could be a thankless job sometimes, but there before the grace of God go I.

   The rest of the morning was spent cleaning, both house and human, and when I finally plopped her on her diapered butt in front of the television for a few minutes reprieve, Negan came strolling back in, covered in horse crap and looking like he wanted to throw a fit.

   "What happened?" I asked, fighting a smile as he kicked his boots out onto the porch, holding his arms away from his body. 

   He gave me a vintage 'Negan' look, mumbling something about falling on his ass in George's stall before stomping up the steps to shower. Nora could ignore me all day long, but her eagle ears caught the A-word and it came out of her mouth perfectly. 

   "Ass," she chirped, and I wasn't sure whether or not to laugh or to correct her. 

   "No, butt," I said, and she narrowed her eyes at me.

   "Ass."

   "Butt."

   We went around in a circle for five minutes until I threw up my hands in surrender, laughing when she copied me before climbing up onto my lap to watch Lady and the Tramp, or 'The Saga of Marie and Negan', as I was starting to think.

   When the grumpiest man alive tromped back down the steps, he was greeted with our daughter's first swear word, and he had the decency to look mortified as I stared him down.

   "Great job with that, by the way," I snapped, handing her off to grab my things. 

  "Sorry," he shouted after me as I walked out and towards the front to meet Michonne. 

   She and Rick were both waiting for me by the truck as I climbed into the back seat, tossing my bag next to me. Both of them got in front with Michonne driving, and we were on the highway before Rick asked me what was wrong.

   "That idiot came into the house in a mood, and long story short: Nora now says 'ass'," I complained as Rick tried not to react in any way whatsoever. "How did the riding lesson go?"

   "Well, he's never going to be John Wayne, but it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be."

  _John Wayne?_

   "Could you be any lamer?" Michonne teased him as he folded his arms defensively. "Why not just completely out yourself as an old fogey?"

   I half listened to the two of them bicker for a few minutes before finally interrupting to ask Rick what I really wanted to know.

   "How did the two of you get along, though?"

   Rick and Michonne both shut up, and I heard Rick sigh as he turned in his seat so that he could face me. 

   "It was okay. Even though it's been two years, it's still weird to think of him as a regular guy. Sometimes I'll look at him and see Glenn's face, or Abraham's, and this rage will percolate inside of me. But then I'll see him with Nora, or even you, and I wonder how he came to be the way he was."

   "You know about Lucille, right?"

   "The bat?" Michonne asked, looking back at me briefly before concentrating on the road. 

   "No, his wife."

   A part of me felt guilty, but I told them anyway about Negan and Lucille, and how she died. Neither one spoke, they just listened as I recounted the months after he couldn't put her down, losing everyone he came across until he found the group that would eventually be the Saviors, including Dwight and Sherry. 

   I didn't stop until we reached the baby store that Michonne knew about, leaving the two of them together, talking in hushed tones as I rifled through the remaining inventory for a gift for Adam. There were a few cute outfits still in boxes in the storeroom, and I found a bear that had his name stitched on the tummy that I picked up as well. 

   When I came back out, the bed of the truck was loaded up with some other odds and ends, and we checked the rest of the stores in the little plaza, finding some empty mason jars for canning and a few bottles of moonshine hidden in the office of the accounting office that sat on the end. Rick mentioned that Daryl would probably like it, and I set inside the cab before putting Adam's present in the gift bag I'd swiped before leaving.

   The Hilltop wasn't far away, and I took a catnap while we drove, tired from the past few days. The swelling in my cheek was almost gone, but I knew I'd have to tell Sherry what happened. She and I didn't keep secrets from each other, and even though I didn't want her to worry, she'd be angry if anyone else ever let it slip and it didn't come from me. 

   I was much more okay about it that I thought I would be. It had been terrifying, don't get me wrong, but I think I knew deep down that Negan and Rick would be there. They'd been through too much, seen too much between the two of them to let a bunch of unorganized thugs take advantage of them. Even if I hadn't been the one that was taken, neither one of them would've let it slide, anyway. Rocky and his men could've taken nothing more than a truck hostage, and Rick and Negan would've seen it as a threat to their people, their way of life. They eliminated threats of any kind, too protective of the peace that had been built through sacrifice and blood. 

   The truck made a sharp turn, and my head jerked, waking me. I sat up, rubbing my face as the gates to the Hilltop opened, and Maggie was waiting there with Hershel and Jesus. Crap, I hadn't seen her since I left that day, and I could see her scanning the truck with hawk eyes.

   She met me as I got out, looking at my fading injuries grimly, but I avoided her stare, digging around the bed for a toy for her son. The little boutique store had some older toys, and one of them was a popper vacuum like I'd grown up with, and I fished it out, holding it for Hershel to see. There was another one waiting for Nora, but his eyes crinkled as he reached out for it, and Maggie set him down as I helped him push it so that he could see the colorful little balls dance around as he moved.

   "I'm fine," I said before Maggie asked, hugging her quickly. "Lesson learned about going out alone."

   "Do you have any idea how worried we were?" she told me, refusing to let me go, even when my arms dropped, and I nodded, my chin bouncing off of her shoulder. 

   "I paid for my stupidity, trust me."

   She reared back, and I realized how it sounded, amending my words.

   "Not like that. I mean, stuff happened, but not what you're thinking. It's...I'm okay."

   "He loves you."

   It was quiet and almost regretful, but I smiled at her, taking her hands. She was there when he made his speech, and I knew it was hard on her. They were never going to get along, never going to be able to move past it, but hopefully, she could see that he felt remorse. That Negan was capable of understanding the hurt and the damage that he'd inflicted on so many people.

   "He gets it. He really does," I murmured as we walked towards the medical trailer. 

   She left me to go back to Hershel, and I took the bag up the steps, walking inside to see Dwight sitting on the couch holding Adam, rocking him in a blue blanket. Every time I thought I'd seen Dwight the happiest he could possibly be, he always managed to top it. He was looking down at the baby like the amazing, precious gift that he was, and I set down the present, kneeling down to get a better look.

   "No breathing issues," he told me before I could ask, and I breathed a sigh of relief. "We're heading home tomorrow."

   "That's great. That is the best news," I smiled, holding out my arms. I was itching to get my hands on this cute little guy, and he passed him over to me smiling until he looked up and saw my face.

   "What happened?"

   "First, how's my girl?"

   "Up and about, but she's in the other room. What happened?"

   "We might as well go in there so I can tell you both at once," I said, getting up and walking down the hall, cooing at Adam as I did.

   Sherry was indeed up, standing near the window looking out as I opened the door. When she turned around, I grinned, since she had a breast pump attached to her, and it looked absurd. She didn't smile though, and I pursed my lips together as Dwight shut the door behind us. 

   "Did Negan do that to you?" she hissed, coming over to get a better look. "I'll fucking kill him."

   "What? No!"

   "Marie, don't lie to me," she warned me, and I almost snapped back, but I knew that she was all whacked out with her hormones, and I jerked my head towards the couch, sitting down in the middle. 

   "It happened when I left here after Adam's birth," I began, and she dropped down onto the cushion beside me. Other than my voice, the only sound in the room were Adam's occasional squeaks, and the whooshing of the pump as I told her about how I got lost, ending up past Alexandria and running into Rocky. 

   Sherry kept her composure until I told her about waking up to find Ricky fondling me, and she started to cry. One handed, I put my arm around her, rushing through the rest of it, slowing down only when I told her about Negan's soliloquy over Rocky's dying body. Dwight was out of my eyesight, but I felt him shifting next to me, and I glanced at him quickly before wrapping it up.

   "He saved me. They all did, and Rick's letting him out all of the time now," I finished, patting the baby's butt while I looked down at him. He'd fallen asleep while I spoke, and I kept up the soothing action while Sherry got up to remove the pump. 

   "So you want him to come back with you, I'm assuming," Dwight said, looking from me to Sherry. 

   "I know we touched on it a little bit, but yeah, I think so," I avoided both of their stares. "Only if you can live with it. I'll never put you in that position if you can't handle it. It's entirely up to you, but I'd like you to talk to Rick before you make any decisions."

   I didn't expect him to do it right then, but he got up and left, and Sherry sat back down next to me with a sigh. 

   "I knew this would happen the second you told me that you were in Alexandria," she said, but she didn't sound upset. Just resigned, like it was unavoidable. Death, taxes, and Negan. Only one of them was escapable these days.

   "He's everything I always wanted him to be," I offered as she took her son, kissing him softly as he slept. "He's wonderful with Nora, working side by side with Rick. He even gardens, for Pete's sake. He's the man he should've always been."

   "Who's to say he won't want a taste of power again? What if he decides that Shadow Mountain should have a leader and it should be him?"

   "There's no guarantees, Sher, but I see the way he looks at Nora. He gets it now. He understands what it means to care about something more than himself. He has something to fight for, not to take away. It's just...different. But like I said, if you can't get on board, it won't happen."

   "But you'll leave, won't you?" she said, and her voice broke. "You'll leave me."

   I could feel my eyes prickling, and I put my head on her shoulder, feeling them move up and down as she started to cry. 

   "I want Nora to have everything I didn't. A family. A community of people that love her and will care for her no matter what. A _father_."

   "I get that," she sniffled after a moment, and I know she was thinking about her own child, what she would want in my position, and I was quick to console her.

   "You don't have to decide anything today. Take some time to think about it. Talk it over with Dwight. I want him to be okay with it, too."

   "Why do I always lose you to that fucker?" she said with a weak laugh, and I kissed her on the cheek. 

   "Sisters before misters," I teased. "Or whatever the heck that saying is. I'm like herpes. You're never getting rid of me."

   It made her laugh genuinely, and I forced the attention back on her and the baby, showing her the bear and the outfits I found. She seemed to perk up a little, and I spent the rest of my visit listening about each and every feeding, diaper change, and smile that he'd given in the last few days, the pride of a new mother making me swell with love and pride. There was no doubt in my mind that Adam was going to grow up surrounded by love.

   Before I left, I stopped to chat with Carl, who was working with the blacksmith and doing a darned fine job. Rick had agreed to let him apprentice at the Hilltop, but only if he came home on the weekends, to which he'd grudgingly agreed. Personally, I thought that it was great. Carl was getting some independence while learning a trade that was going to be invaluable in the coming years, and Rick got to have his son for a few days a week. Soon, we'd all have to learn to do things we would've never planned to in the old world.

   On the ride back, I pondered what I could be good at, discarding the metal work almost immediately. You had to be strong and withstand a lot of heat, and I had no interest. Farming was easy enough to do. Building? Engineering? It might even be interesting to learn how to make clothes, but that seemed like such a cliche. The little housewife sitting around sewing. Eh, thoughts for another day.

   The sun was setting by the time we made it back to Alexandria, and I was starving. It might have been too much to hope that Negan had whipped something up, but I was pleasantly surprised when I walked through the door to smell garlic and baking bread. 

   Since he'd been nice enough to cook, I ignored the fact that the living room looking like a bomb had gone off, and I moseyed into the kitchen to see Nora gnawing on a frozen washcloth and Negan stirring a huge pot of sauce, wearing an apron.

   "Hello, daughter," I sang, kissing her on the top of the head as she offered me the washcloth. I pretended to nibble on it before giving it back to her, and I went over to see the cook, sneaking a taste of the sauce before he smacked me on the butt. Hard.

   "Stay away from my masterpiece until it's ready."

   "Whatever," I muttered, getting a bottle of water out of the fridge and plopping down next to Nora to wait. 

   "How's the baby?" he asked while he continued to stir, and I smiled at his back, appreciating the effort he was making.

   "Good. Not having any breathing problems, and he's adorable. They're going to head back tomorrow."

   If I hadn't been staring at him, I would've missed the slight slump in his shoulders, and I assumed it was because he thought I'd be going back with them, but I didn't say anything. If he wanted to discuss it, he'd have to be the one to bring it up.

   As it was, he remained quiet, and I didn't push it, turning my attention to Nora while he drained the noodles. I was perfectly fine switching topics, but out of nowhere his hand flashed in front of my face, and it wasn't empty. 

   In the middle of his palm was an engagement ring. Well, so much for my speech about taking it slow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The bad news: I'm leaving for a work trip and won't be able to update again until at least Saturday. (for anyone that cares)


	70. The Finger of God

   When someone shuts themselves off from you, it can feel like there's a physical change in the environment. I remembered reading once that back in the days before they had all of those cool digital effects, when they made movies like The Parent Trap, and they had to portray identical twins, they'd film the actor twice, doing each part, and then splice the images together. 

   That's what it felt like when I was sitting there with Negan during dinner. He'd filmed his part of being the happy, caring father, and I was just getting the playback, because he wasn't really there. He made eye contact where I was, but he wasn't really seeing me. 

   When he'd held out his hand with an engagement ring sitting in his palm, I didn't react the way he thought I would, I guess. I'd stared at it for a moment before shaking my head. It obviously wasn't the result he was looking for, but it was the only one I had. 

   The ring disappeared as quickly as it had shown up, and I sat there stiffly while he finished dinner, playing with Nora while simultaneously trying to figure out why Negan did the things that he did.

   As woefully inept as I was at relationships, particularly with him, I was beginning to understand that Negan wasn't much better at this than I was. We were literally three weeks into rekindling our connection, and he thought that proposing with his hand out was the solution to...our...whatever.

   He set the platter down with a thump, getting in between Nora and me to serve her some that he'd already cut up, and I scooped out some for myself, keeping my head down and my mouth shut except to eat. In my experience with him, it was best to wait it out when he felt hurt and exposed, and I know that my reaction wasn't what he'd expected.

   Nora was the only one that spoke, and that was a series of coos while she ate, and she didn't seem to be too out of sorts, so I assumed that she'd be able to sleep in the bed. That would give me a chance to talk to Negan, if he didn't freeze me out for the rest of the night.

   As it was, he ate in record time, dumping his dish into the sink before taking Nora out of her chair and heading up the stairs with heavy steps, leaving me sitting by myself. The water turned on upstairs, and I cleaned up the kitchen and the living room while he bathed the baby, giving me time to think about how I wanted to approach this. 

   An hour later, he still hadn't come back down, so I went upstairs to see Nora drowsing in the bed with soft music playing. She gave me a sleepy look, reaching out for me as I cuddled up next to her. The water was running again, and I figured that Negan was showering. As Nora played with my hair, I told her a story in a soothing voice, replacing Goldilocks with her name, kissing her over and over as her eyes finally shut for the night.

   She smelled like fruit and happiness, and I kissed her again before leaving her to sleep, making sure she wouldn't roll off of the bed. The hall bathroom was empty, so I went back down, but Negan wasn't there. I had a sneaking suspicion that he was hunkered down in the other guest room, and I went back up, seeing that the door was closed. 

   I walked in without knocking, and Negan didn't even flinch. He was lying facedown on the bed, shirtless. His head was turned towards the window, and both of his arms were under the pillow. The only indication that he was awake was the movement of his torso, more rapid than when he slept. 

   The bed was one of those memory foam ones, so it barely moved when I crawled on next to him, sitting cross-legged as I waited for him to acknowledge me, but he never moved, and I finally exhaled loudly.

   "A ring isn't the answer for everything, Negan."

   His arm muscles tensed up, but he didn't lift his head as he spat out his words.

   "What the _fuck_ is that supposed to mean?"

   "Sherry. Amber. Phoebe. Alicia. Carolyn. Who knows how many others," I said quietly, not daring to invoke Lucille's name. It wasn't fair, because he'd loved her, and it was before everything happened, but there was a definite pattern. I truly didn't say it to hurt him any more than my rejection had, but it was his thing. Whether or not it was completely tied to what he'd gone through with Lucille, I didn't know. "Marriage seems to be your go to, and I don't think that it's the right response for what we're dealing with right now."

   "You're a real piece of work, Angel."

   "And you're scared, sweetie."

   "Don't call me that," he barked, moving further away towards the edge of the bed. Undeterred, I scooted closer to him, leaning over to kiss the base of his neck. 

   "You told me to judge your actions as well as your words, so that's what I'm doing. And you're afraid that I'm going to leave. Leave _yo_ u, anyways, and go back to Shadow Mountain."

   He didn't say anything, shifting slightly. The moonlight was shining on his back, a clean, unbroken line that divided his torso in half, and I traced the lines as I tried to reassure him.

   "I'm not going to do that. I want to be with you. I want Nora to be with you. But you told me that I needed to communicate with you, and the same applies to you when it comes to me."

   "What do you want me to say, Marie? That I'm fucking scared? That you came back into my life and made me think that I could have something normal, but I'm just waiting for it all to be taken away? I'm not a pussy."

   "Well, you should know better than anyone that putting a ring on someone's finger doesn't automatically make a relationship. It's just a ring. The love, the commitment. It has to come from inside, and I'm not doubting that about you. Why would you doubt it about me?"

   "Because when the fuck have I ever gotten what I wanted out of life?" he finally rolled over to face me, and I saw that he was truly upset. I'd heard him talk about Lucille many times, and how he'd thought that his life would've turned out differently than it did. What I didn't understand until right then was that he was lumping me in with her.

   "I assumed you were getting it right now, but maybe I was wrong."

   I backed away from him, feeling stung, but he latched onto my wrist, pulling me back slowly and steadily until I was leaning against his side. He kept a hold of my arm, letting go of my wrist, but sliding his fingers up until they were curled around my upper arm. Watching me out of the side of his eyes, he focused only on my lips.

   "I don't want to lose it again. I'll lose you again, I know I will. I lost Lucille. I lost the only place I'd ever been able to call my own, and I lost you."

   "It's just a ring, Negan. It doesn't come with any magical properties. It's the words that matter, not the metal band," I told him, propping my chin on the corner of his shoulder. "Love me. Honor me. Cherish me. Cherish Nora."

   "And when you leave again? I get nothing."

   "I talked to Sherry and Dwight today, and I told them that I wanted to be with you. Whether it's at home or not is up to them, but if they can't accept that, then we'll stay here. I know you think deep down that I betrayed you when I left, but that wasn't what it was. I did what I did because I thought it was right. I wanted the world to be better than what it was, even before. And it is, at least for everyone I know."

   He didn't say anything, and I traced the line of his jaw, feeling it tighten and release. 

  "It's been three weeks, and I'm already in love with you again. I'm not leaving and I don't want to unless it's with you. And maybe we could get married someday. Find a church, fill it with candles and say vows to each other when it means something, not just when you think it'll keep me in your life."

   He still didn't answer, and I sat up, sliding to the edge of the bed and getting to my feet. It wasn't about hurting him, that was for sure. It was about what felt right to me, and pretending that we were married just so that he felt he had some control wasn't sane. It was an illusion, one that was pointless. He had my word and my heart, and that was all that he should need. 

   I went in to check on Nora, and she was sound asleep in the middle of the bed. Grabbing the monitor, I carried it downstairs, pouring myself a glass of wine before heading into the living room. I wasn't a drinker, but the Kingdom was making a sweet red that tasted like dessert, and I sipped it while thumbing through the cd's I'd brought, looking for one in particular. I'd taken it from Negan's room when I'd left, for two reasons. 

   One was because I didn't want him to have it, hurt by the incident with red panties, and the other is because I wanted to remember the feelings it had evoked in me before all of that. 

   We'd been sitting on his couch when my song had come on, and I'd told him how much it affected me. There had been a noticeable shift in our relationship that night, both from that song and the fact that it was the night that Amber had killed herself. We were so far gone from those days, yet when the guitar whined out the longing, desperate chords, I was right back on that couch again. 

   I'd been simultaneously afraid, aroused, unnerved by Negan, and I supposed I still was, in a way. He had the innate ability to see me like no one else ever had, and it changed my life and my sense of self. The electric charge between us that night, I could still feel it through the music, and I thought about when he'd leaned close to me, his voice rough and husky.

   "Let me kiss you, Angel."

   My eyelids fluttered open at the words, and he was leaning over me, breathing heavily and wild-eyed. Those were the exact same words he'd said then, and I'd told him no. This time I didn't say anything at all, I just placed my hand on the back of his neck, pulling him closer to me. 

   Negan wouldn't meet my lips, though, using his strength to keep me at bay. He wanted an answer, and I gave it to him.

   "Always."

   Angrily, roughly, he pushed me onto my back, laying all of his weight on mine, and it was divine. Wearing only shorts, I had more of his skin, his muscles than I could handle, running my hands over every inch of his body that was available to me as he nipped and bit my neck. My thighs were spread wide around his waist, and I dug my heels into his back, gasping at the feel of his tongue, teeth, beard stubble, and hands under my shirt.

   I tried to grab the waistband of his shorts to push them down, but he took my hands away, holding them above my head.

   "No."

   "Negan, please," I whimpered, looking up at him, but he was resolute, bent on exacting either revenge or the sweetest torture he could think of. Giving me a warning look, he let me go, and I kept my hands to myself while he pushed my shirt up and my bra out of the way. My breasts were exposed for only a few seconds before he worked them over, his thumb rubbing one nipple while he used his mouth on the other. 

   Gone was the new, improved Negan. No, I had sexy, unhinged Negan. He wanted the upper hand again. He wanted me begging and pleading, a whimpering puddle, and he was getting it. I could feel his erection every time it brushed against my pelvis, and I lifted my hips to try and get more friction, only to be punished with teeth against my breasts. 

   When he felt that he'd had enough, he sat back, looking at me with a glint in his eye, running his hands down my stomach to the button of my jeans. Oh, thank the Lord. He lowered the zipper, hooking his thumbs in the belt loops, lifting my legs straight up to strip me, and I quickly removed my shirt and bra as he split my legs again. 

   Everywhere his eyes traveled, I felt flush with heat, and he zeroed in on my panties, smiling like the Chesire cat. 

   "Goddamn, I've missed these white beauties."

   "Negan-"

   "Don't say another word, Marie, or I'm going back upstairs."

   I bit down on my lip, accepting my punishment, and he almost ripped the cotton material in two to get it off of my body, retreating off the couch and positioning me to his liking like I was a sex doll. He was on his knees in front of me, his tongue moving lazily on the inside of my thigh, the anticipation making my entire body shake. 

   "Do you love me, Angel?"

   I nodded, staring up at the ceiling, with only his warm breath and tongue to remind me that he was even here with me. The crying guitar matched my mood, the desperation to be loved and devoured. I needed to be put out of my misery. 

   "Good girl," he murmured, burying his head, and I jerked upright. Every sweep of his tongue sent a shockwave into my belly and a lick of heat up my spine. I never wanted him to stop what he was doing, the pent-up emotion, the overwhelming release of two years of adult solitude came pouring out as he added fingers to his repertoire, inserting two at once, and I nearly wept with relief. It wasn't enough and it was too much, prompting me to curl my fingers in his hair, unsure if I wanted him to back off, or continue. 

   My orgasm built up quickly, overtaking me in just minutes, and I called out his name, begging him to fuck me, the first time I'd ever done so in such a vulgar fashion, but I was too emotionally and physically raw at that point to care. 

   Exhausted, I slumped back, as limp as a dishrag when he finally resurfaced from between my legs, and he pulled me into a sitting position, holding me upright. 

   "When I fuck you, Angel, it's not going to be on the couch in Daryl's house. It's going to be in a bed, and you're not going to be able to walk the next day. And I will be fucking you."

   Negan kissed me on the lips, keeping his eyes open while I watched him warily, waiting for the caveat. 

   "Once we're married."

   Yep, there it was.


	71. Straying From the Path

  
   Nora was napping and Negan was sulking on the couch when I walked out the next day with a singular purpose in mind, and there was only one person who could help me. She was in the front area of her house, playing with Judith, and I approached her with a smile, giving the little girl a playful wave.

   "Where's Nora?" Judy asked as I squatted down to see the chalk drawings that she was making on the sidewalk. A little girl was drawn in pink, a boy in blue, and a mom and dad in green. Her little family in color, and I fished around in her bucket for a yellow piece, drawing the outline of a sun as she watched me.

   "She's sleeping, sweetheart. But I'm betting you can go play with her later if you'd like."

   Judith nodded her head, holding out her hand for the chalk, and I gave it to her, observing as she added some rays to the yellow orb before catching Michonne's eye. "Do you have a sec?"

   The other woman got to her feet, kissing Judith on the head.

   "Marie and I are going to be right on the porch. Don't leave the sidewalk, okay?"

   "Okay, momma," she said, scraping the chalk from side to side with great seriousness, and I patted her shoulder before following Michonne up the steps to the chairs that were set out.

   "Something wrong?" she asked, sitting in the far chair and giving me a steady look as I shook my head.

   "No, I just wondered if you'd be able to take me out for a bit. I, uh, need your help with something personal."

   One eyebrow went up, and I felt my face get hot as the front door opened and Rick stepped out, wiping his face with a towel. He'd just shaved, and there was still a bit of white foam by his ear as he smiled uncertainly at me.

   "Hey, Marie," he greeted me, leaning against the pillar. "Everything okay?"

   "Oh, sure," I said, avoiding his eyes. "I just wanted to see if Michonne wouldn't mind going on a little run. Nora's asleep and Negan's watching her, so I thought that..."

   "We can watch her for you if you need Negan to go with you," Rick offered, and Michonne interrupted him.

   "I can go with her," she smiled, getting up and taking the towel from Rick, wiping off the rest of the shaving cream. "It's female-centric."

   He shifted uncomfortably, and I wanted to melt into the floor. There was no telling what he was thinking, and I certainly wasn't going to offer up any information, so I shot out of my seat, backing towards the steps.

   "Great, so, I'll meet you at the gates in about twenty?"

   Michonne smiled, and I speed-walked back to Daryl's house to get my things. When I opened the door, Negan was still in the same spot, nursing a cup of coffee and staring out of the window. He ignored me and I did the exact same to him.

   The night before, he'd proposed to me and I'd declined with what I thought was a very reasonable excuse. His lingering fear that I was going to walk out of his life again wasn't a good enough reason to get 'married', and I know it hurt him. It wasn't that I didn't want to make the commitment to him, I just didn't want to do it as a knee-jerk reaction to his panic that I would go back to Sherry and Dwight without him.

   What had resulted afterward was a very angrily erotic encounter between the two of us on the couch, and it ended with me basically begging him to have sex with me and his refusal to do so. In fact, he claimed he wasn't going to engage in carnal relations until we were married. It was dirty pool, in my opinion, and he'd left me sitting there nude as he sauntered off, thinking he'd had me backed into a corner.

   That son of a mongoose had no idea who he was messing with. Unlike him, I'd gone my entire life without sex, and even though I wanted him so badly that I could barely think straight, I wasn't going to be bulldozed into wearing a ring just so that he could feel like he was in charge.

   While he was in the bathroom, I'd hurriedly gotten dressed and went into the bedroom with Nora, locking the door behind me. The doorknob turned a few times, but he didn't say anything, and a few seconds later I heard the guest door close. We hadn't said a word to each other since, only speaking to Nora separately, who obviously had no idea what was going on between the two of us.

   Now, I was there just to grab my bag and my scythe, and I walked back out without telling him where I was going. Michonne was already there and waiting for me when I got to the gates, and I climbed into the little pickup truck after pulling out a piece of paper from my back pocket.

   "Are you pregnant?" Michonne asked as soon as her door closed and I shook my head.

   "You have to have sex to get pregnant," I said bitterly, tossing my bag onto the floor.

   Her lips pressed into a thin line as she started the engine, and we glided out without another word until we got to the highway, and I told her address that I'd written down.

   "So, what's this about then?"

   "Can I tell you without you judging me? I know Negan's not your favorite person."

   "You can tell me anything," she said, thinking about the directions before pulling back into the road.

   I told her about how I went to see Sherry and Dwight, and that Negan had proposed. She kept her mouth shut as I explained both his reasoning and mine, and how he was trying to force me into what he wanted by withholding sex, and she laughed once before apologizing.

   "It's not funny," I complained as her smile returned. "I can't give in just because he wants to get his way. I have to break him."

   "Do you want to marry him?"

   "Probably. But not like this. Not because he thinks it creates an unbreakable bond that keeps me tethered to him. Nora already does that, and so does the fact that I love him."

   She was quiet for a while, and I stared out of the window, mulling over how stupid I sounded. The man loved me, and he wanted it to be tangible, yet I was holding out. Maybe _I_ was the stupid one.

   "All I know about him is what I've seen, and it hasn't been all good as you are well aware, but he seems to love you and he adores Nora. The time he spent in the cell appears to have done wonders in helping him, but he'll probably always strive for some sort of control or dominance, even if it's just personally. Men like him and Rick are just built that way," she mused, turning down a side street as I glanced back at her. "If you want to remain on equal footing with him, you're probably going to have to hold your ground here, and let him see that you aren't going to be pushed into it just because it's what _he_ wants."

   "You'd think it would be the other way around. Anyone else would assume it would be me asking for a ring and telling him I wasn't going to sleep with him until we were married. Especially since I'm a disgraced ex-nun with a child out of wedlock."

   Michonne started to laugh again, and I ran my hands across my eyes before joining her. It really was absurd.

   "He's _so_ good in bed, too," I admitted, turning red again as she gave me a stunned look. "What? You don't think he's attractive?"

   "Aesthetically, yes," she said begrudgingly. "He's a physically fine specimen, though I'd never go there, obviously. Rick's much more my type."

   I grinned and she playfully slapped me on the arm.

   "You don't think Rick's handsome?"

   I don't know why, but it felt nice to have such a stupid conversation like this. Michonne wasn't Sherry, but I felt at ease with her, and it was like having girlfriends again.

   "Rick's very attractive in a...serious sort of way."

   "Oh, God, he's not like that in the bedroom," she breathed and I shrieked with laughter. "That intensity goes a long way."

   The two of us were in tears by the time we got to the nondescript building, and when she saw what it was, she doubled over with laughter, resting her head on the steering wheel.

   "Good call, Marie."

   "Please don't tell Rick," I begged, picking up my weapon and bag. "I'd die if he knew."

   "Honey, he's going to figure it out when I come home with some shit of my own."

   "I know in the grand scheme of things that stuff like this isn't important, but I've never had anything like this in my life, and I need to crack Negan first."

   "Let's go," she groaned, looking around carefully before getting out. There were only two walkers wandering around the lot, and they were easily dispatched.

   A luxury lingerie shop was not on anyone's priority list during an apocalypse, so the glass door was completely intact, and Michonne hit it with the butt of her gun, making it shatter. Both of us stood outside for several minutes to make sure there were no other walkers wither inside or out, but no one appeared.

   We had two lanterns and a few hours to spare, so I let Michonne lead the way since I didn't have a clue as to what I was doing. I was the queen of white cotton panties, so I followed her lead, browsing through racks of silk nightgowns, teddies, garters and all the lacey panties one could ever want. The only thing I steered clear of were red ones, and Michonne sent me into the dressing room to try on a few things.

   I was self-conscious, especially considering her body was amazing, but she found me a few pieces that were surprisingly flattering on my decidedly more average frame, including a green silk nightgown that was very lowcut and some lace thongs that she insisted I wear home to get used to.

   "No way he lasts when you go to bed wearing this," she snickered, holding up a black, sheer babydoll nightie, shoving it into my bag. Bras, garters, anything in my size or hers was taken, and the sun was setting when we finally left, Michonne grabbing a few bottles of flavored lube on our way out.

   "Thank you," I told her when we were almost home. "I'm sure our resources could've been put to better use today, but this means a lot to me."

   "Life is short, Marie. We need the fun stuff, too."

   Once we got back into the gates, I stayed in the truck while she went to get another bag to hide her things, and we carefully separated them before getting out. When we got to her place, I gave her a hug before starting towards home, and she had a distinct hop in her step as she went inside.

   For my part, I went immediately to my room, hiding everything under the bed, going downstairs after. Nora was already in her chair, and Negan was heating up the previous night's pasta. He didn't say a word to me when I came in, so I sat down with the baby, playing with her until he brought over dinner.

   I thanked him quietly, dropping some noodles on Nora's tray so that she could feed herself and twirling a forkful for myself.

   "Where'd you go?" he asked and I shrugged my shoulders nonchalantly.

   "Out for a bit."

   He frowned, but I didn't elaborate. He'd see where I'd been soon enough, and I had to fight to keep from smiling. The rest of the meal was silent, and when we were done, I wiped her down, taking her into the living room to play before bath time. She was unusually chatty, and even though she mumbled 'ass' a few times, I didn't draw attention to it, setting up her blocks to pass the time.

   Negan joined us after putting the food away, and he very deliberately reclined back on his elbows so that his stomach was showing, those g-damned black hairs sitting front and center in front of me. It made me grind my teeth, but otherwise, I didn't react. Soon enough, I'd get my own chance to tempt him, and he didn't even know it.

   Nora started rubbing her eyes a half an hour later, and I had her help me clean up, setting her on my hip when I carried her up the steps.

   "Dada?" she asked, looking over my shoulder, and I heard steps behind me. When I glanced back, I saw that he was staring at my butt, and I smirked when he saw that I'd caught him, narrowing his eyes at me. Busted, you fool.

   "Do you want strawberries or apple, sweet pea?" I asked, setting her down and showing her the two different soaps. She pointed at the apple bottle, and I poured some into the tub as the water ran to make bubbles, stripping her bare and setting her down.

   She splashed around happily with her rubber ducks while I cleaned her up, and when I took her into the bedroom, Negan had already set out a fresh diaper and pajamas for her. He headed into the shower as I got her down to sleep, and while he was still occupied, I quickly shucked my clothes, putting on the black, sheer nightie and heading into the other bedroom with a book, avoiding looking at myself in the mirror.

   My breasts were visible through the material and so were the matching underwear that went with it, and I took out my ponytail, fluffing up my hair as I stretched out on top of the covers, trying to lay as provocatively as I could without looking like an idiot. Hopefully, God wouldn't judge me for my actions, and I opened the book to a random page, pretending to read while I waited for Negan.

   I didn't hear him approach, but I did hear him suck in his breath, and my head snapped up to see him standing in the doorway with clenched fists and pajama pants slung low on his hips. There was a pained look on his face, and I looked around innocently.

   "What's wrong?" I asked, flipping the book closed as he stood frozen, boosting my self-esteem to new heights never seen before.

   "What the fuck are you wearing?" His voice was strangled, and he shut his eyes as I swung my feet off of the bed, walking towards him and waiting until he opened them again.

   "Oh, this?" I brushed my hands over my chest and down to my waist, grazing my hips. "I know how much my white cotton panties get to you, so I figured in the interest of saving your decorum, I should find something else to wear. I know you're saving yourself for marriage."

   If looks could kill, I would've been about six feet under as he glared at my face before looking over my head. Undaunted, I turned around, getting on the bed on my hands and knees and planting myself on my stomach with the book. Pretending to get comfortable, I hummed, wiggling my hips back and forth before flipping my hair over my shoulder to wink at him.

   He let out a growling sound, turning around and walking stiffly towards the other bedroom and shutting the door. There was a very distinct click as he locked it, and I tossed the book off of the bed, both frustrated and happy. He may not crack tonight, but he'd fall sooner or later. The man was entirely too sexual and sensual to play the martyr, and I got under the covers, shutting off the lamp with a smile on my face.


	72. And The Lion Lay Down With The Lamb

  
   Judith and Nora walked hand in hand towards the barn with Michonne and I following behind. The two girls were chatting, one understandably and one a series of gibberish, but it was cute nonetheless.

   "How'd it go last night? Did he take the bait?" Michonne asked, keeping her eyes on the girls as I scuffed my toe along the dirt path.

   "Nope," I sighed, adjusting my button-down shirt while we kept moving. "I definitely didn't get to de-bone the marlin last night."

   She snorted quietly, but I was less amused. Negan was definitely thrown off, but he'd retreated to the baby's room, spending the night with her as I slept alone. The next morning, he'd deposited Nora on my bed and said he was going out riding with Rick, leaving me in a slinky nightie with a rambunctious toddler to keep me company.

   Now, a few hours later, we were making our way there to trade jobs. Michonne and I were supposed to go out and check the perimeters, and Rick and Negan were going to be on daddy duty.

   "What about you? Did Rick appreciate the merchandise?"

   "Oh, yeah," she purred, licking her lips. "He appreciated it twice."

   I couldn't help snickering as we got closer to the barn doors. At least someone got something out of it.

   "Keep it up, girl," she advised me as we stepped inside. "He's not going to last. You can topple him."

   Oh, I wanted to topple him, all right. I wanted to do a lot of things to him, and none of them were fit to be said in front of two little girls, so I sighed deeply, shrugging halfheartedly as our kids went from stall to stall, though only Sable was here.

   While Michonne kept an eye on them, I pulled her out, letting her into the paddock for a while, and I held Nora so that she could watch. Sable would occasionally trot over and sniff at the baby, sending her into delighted squeals, and Judith held out some hay for her to eat, getting excited when she'd take it with her lips, munching contentedly.

   About a half hour later, we could hear the clopping steps of the other two horses, and I carried Nora out to see Negan arriving, looking a little more secure than he did when I was taking him out on rides, and Nora called out to him, making him break into a lovely smile.

   "Hey, princess," he called back, and she squirmed in my arms trying to get to him on the horse. But I wasn't comfortable handing her off since he was riding George, and he continued past us with a quick look at me.

   Nora started to cry at the rebuff, and I hugged her to my chest while she pushed at me, but I wasn't going to budge.

   "That's not Sable, baby," I explained to the girl who didn't understand anyway. "You can't ride George, yet."

   "Dada, hose," she whined, wiggling in my grasp until I stomped over and thrust her into his arms, hurriedly securing George to the stable so he couldn't take off, and she went from demon child to angel like a switch had been flipped. They sat up there for a few minutes, huddled together, and I brushed out the horse's mane, listening to Nora laugh while Negan tickled her, and I smiled unwittingly until Rick dismounted his horse and gave me an embarrassed look. Oh God, he knew.

   My face got hot as he looked from Negan to me, and I had the sinking suspicion that the two of them did more than ride. Was it possible that they had an actual conversation about the situation between us?

   Michonne set Judith down on a hay bale, clipping the other mare and tossing me a brush as Rick took Nora and Negan jumped down, brushing his shoulders against my own without saying a word. He took off the saddle, his muscles straining as he tossed it onto the rack, and Michonne cleared her throat.

   "We'd like you to have dinner with us tonight," she said, surprising Rick, who struggled to downplay it.

   Negan was thrown off as well, and I spoke up for the both us to cover.

   "That would be great, thanks. What time?"

   "Six," she smiled, turning around to brush the horse. "Bring a bag for Nora. Judy really wants a sleepover."

   I knew what she was doing, and I nodded before turning to George and putting all of my attention on him. They left after a few minutes, deeming the perimeter check unneeded, handing my baby to Negan, and he stood behind me as I worked, letting Nora pluck at my hair.

   I hated that we were barely speaking, and I hoped that we'd break out of the impasse that we were currently stuck in. With that in mind, I led the horse out to the field to run around with Sable, and headed back towards home, taking Negan by the hand.

   He squeezed it twice, making me feel a little better, and the three of us spent the rest of the afternoon playing in the house since it had started to drizzle, making up imaginary worlds and watching movies. There was still some tension between us, but it only heightened my desire for this pain in my ass of a man, and at five o'clock, I headed upstairs to get showered and changed, laying out some clothes for the baby to pack up.

   I'd only brought one decent outfit with me, a pair of black capri pants and green silk blouse, and I put on a new set of undergarments, also in green. Though I loved my regular bra, this one put the girls up front and center, highlighting my decent cleavage, and with a touch of makeup, I thought I looked pretty good.

   Negan brought Nora up as I was fussing with my hair, and he stood in the doorway for a second, watching me with a flustered expression. Without saying anything, I took our daughter, setting her on the bed to get her into her sleeper, telling her in a happy voice that she was going to have a girls night with Judy.

   "I bet you'll read books, and color, and sing," I told her, zipping her up as she played with my chest, fascinated by my new decolletage. She hadn't seen me so exposed since she stopped breastfeeding, and her lips smacked together out of habit. "Sorry, love, but there's nothing in there for you anymore."

   I heard a grunting sound and saw that Negan was looking down my blouse, and I cocked an eyebrow at him, shocking him back into action. There was definitely something in there for him, though.

   "I'm gonna get a quick shower," he muttered, heading down the hall and shutting the door firmly.

   "Dada's grumpy," I said, making a prune face, and Nora laughed, trying to make the same face. I nuzzled her with kisses before carrying her and the bag down the steps to wait for Negan.

   He appeared twenty minutes later, and this time I was the one sucking in my breath. Wearing a pair of black slacks, he was clad in a button-down shirt of his own, and it was open, showing some chest hair. Freshly shaved, he had his hair slicked back and he'd applied some cologne. It must've all been Daryl's, because everything was tight, clinging to his impressive muscles, and my mouth may have watered in response.

   One of us was in big trouble tonight, and I was darned sure going to make sure it was him. We eyed each other warily before meeting at the door to head over for what was probably going to be a very uncomfortable dinner. He did take my hand again, but this time it was much tighter, and I caught him looking down my shirt twice.

   If it wouldn't be considered the height of rudeness, I would mount him on Rick's kitchen table just to get what I want, and I had to shake myself to rid my brain of the image. Negan, laying back with his shirt unbuttoned...my mouth everywhere on his body...licking his happy trail...

   "Mama!"

   "What, Nora?" I asked, blinking rapidly as I ran my fingers across the top of my cleavage. She was giving me a sour look as Negan gave me a cocky one, and I sped up my pace to get in front of him, dropping Negan's hand.

   Michonne was out on the porch when we arrived, and she hustled us inside to the smell of something delicious. Clad in a wrap dress with her hair piled on top of her head, she was barefoot, a goddess made flesh, and Negan gave her the once over as I rolled my eyes out of view. For his part, Rick was dressed in khakis and a white shirt, and I smiled at him as he offered some wine.

   After setting Nora down, I took a glass of the sweet red, chatting with Michonne as Negan followed the girls into the living room to keep an eye on them. The other woman glanced down at my chest before giving me a wink, and I let out a frustrated breath, sitting at the table while she helped Rick finish what turned out to be roast chicken with vegetables in a white wine sauce.

   They gravitated towards each other unthinkingly, two opposites on the surface, but more alike than anyone knew. There was a tenderness that they kept hidden most times, but it was front and center tonight, and I had a feeling that the previous night was the reason. Sex was a great way to foster intimacy, not that I had any firsthand knowledge lately.

   Rick called the girls in to eat, and Negan reappeared with one in each arm, giving me a subdued smile as I returned it, and I set Nora in her chair, adding a bib that Michonne had handy.

   The chicken was steaming, and Rick did the honors of slicing it up and portioning some off to everyone.

   Nora took a tentative bite of a small piece that I gave her before pinching her fingers together for more. While I shredded a small pile for her, Rick and Negan discussed the herd, and Rick told us that Daryl had spent the last twenty-four hours monitoring the thousands of walkers, and they were at the very edge of the valley, close to a dried out river bed that would allow them to head right to the freeway.

   So far, it had been quiet, and our people were careful not to make any noise to attract attention, but it was doubtful that they could be heard over the collective moans and groans of such a large group.

   "What about just getting a shit ton of gasoline and lighting them up?" Negan asked, spearing a piece of chicken before taking a bite.

   "There's no way to get that many lit up without getting overwhelmed, and even if we could, they're still going to be mobile, and they could start a wildfire," Rick argued. "Daryl said the whole area is surrounded by trees."

   "Razor wire, then. Find a couple of tanks and just slice through them. If I recall, you guys were able to take out a group on the highway," he said, and there wasn't a trace of bitterness in his tone, a true sign that he'd let the past die. The walkers he was talking about were ones that Negan and the Saviors had corraled as a buffer around the Sanctuary.

   "Maybe we should just head out there and see it for ourselves," Rick said, chewing on a piece of cauliflower. "I don't like trying to guess at the right answer without knowing all of the facts."

   "I'm free tomorrow," Negan said with a lopsided grin. "I'd much rather do that than ride that horse again."

   "You should go," I chimed in, leaning towards Nora and wiping her face as she tried to shovel in a mushy carrot. "The longer we wait to do something, the fewer options we have, and they're closest to our home."

   "Dada," Nora chirped, reaching out to him, prompting him to pull her from the chair and set her on his lap. I was thrilled that she was seeking him out more, even though a part of me was wounded. I had been her primary caregiver for her entire life, and it was an adjustment to know that I wasn't the only important person to her anymore.

   As soon as Judith was done, the two of them scrambled back down onto the ground to play, and the four of us chatted quietly until I stood up to collect the dishes.

   "Leave it," Michonne insisted, taking them out of my hands. "We're going to clean up and get the girls settled for Disney night. Why don't you two run on home and enjoy a child-free evening?"

   Rick snorted, unsuccessfully trying to turn it into a cough, and Negan got up with a muted 'thanks for dinner', walking into the living room to say goodnight to Nora.

   I trailed behind with about the same amount of enthusiasm, kneeling down to kiss her goodbye, but she was so distracted by a Princess doll that she barely paid us any attention.

   Like we were walking the Green Mile, the two of us left, moving side by side up the street towards Daryl's house. I don't know what was going on in his mind, but I was determined that he submit to me tonight, so as soon as the door closed behind us, I attacked him.

   He smacked up against the door, kissing me back for a minute until he braced my shoulders, breaking contact.

   "Stop, we can't."

   "We can't do what? Kiss? Since when?"

   "I know what you're trying to do, Angel, and it's not going to work," he muttered, looking down my shirt. I knocked his arms off of my shoulders, unbuttoning my blouse, letting it fall open to reveal the green bra, and he stiffened against the door.

   "What am I trying to do?"

   I was playing with fire, and it was ignited in his eyes as he took a deep breath. While he was still locked onto my chest, I opened up his shirt, bending down to kiss his stomach, moaning when the muscles contracted. His skin was warm and smooth, the hairs tickling the spot between my upper lip and my nose, and I gripped his waist as I licked around his belly button, knowing that I was close to breaking him.

   "Stop," he growled, taking a step to the side, and I rumbled angrily when he stalked towards the kitchen, the front of his shirt billowing out behind him.

   "You win, Negan," I muttered, halting his steps, and he turned towards me with a smile.

   "So, you'll marry me?"

   "Nope," I said over my shoulder. "I just won't pressure you for sex anymore. We can live like roommates and I'll take my pleasure into my own hands."

   Wiggling my fingers, I climbed the steps into the bedroom, removing my shirt and pants, studying myself in the mirror. He was still downstairs, and I was going for broke. This was my last ditch attempt to wear him down, and it was going to take a lot of bravery on my part.

   During the entirety of our sexual relationship, the one thing I'd never done was touch myself in front of him. He'd begged me to let him watch, but I'd been too self-conscious to comply, even though he'd done it in front of me many times. Truthfully, I'd found it erotic to see him in the throes of ecstasy, his hand wrapped tightly around himself, stroking up and down as I watched him, enraptured. As soon as he was done, I'd latch onto him, impatient for him to recover so that I could watch the same look pass over his face, but because I'd brought him there. Now, I was banking on the same response from him.

   The bra and matching underwear came off, and the green silk gown took its place, flowing like water over the curves of my body. I could hear Negan pacing around on the lower level, and I knew that he was wound up, just by the sound of his footsteps. Ripping open the covers, I climbed into the guest bed, laying on my back.

   The curiosity would be too great, the temptation of seeing what he wanted to for so long would drive him up the steps, and shaking off my self-inflicted fear, I ran my hands across my covered breasts. I was already turned on, spending the last few days in a heated state, so it didn't take me long to feel the warmth coursing through my lower half. It was heightened by the sound of footfalls on the stairs, and I slid the nightgown higher up so that it was just above my thighs.

   My hands were trembling slightly as I let my legs fall to the side, beginning a slow circling motion, my eyes drifting shut. The sensation increased as he crept closer, and I moved my fingers to the beat of my throbbing heart, moaning lightly. Creaking floorboards alerted me that he was in sight, and I opened my lids to a shirtless Negan who was very much aroused, following every movement of my hand.

   "I don't want it to be this way," I breathed, bringing my other hand to my mouth and sticking two fingers in, getting them slick before inserting them with a low moan. "I want this to be _you_ , Negan."

   "Please stop."

   I'd never heard him so rattled, so unsure, and it made my hands work faster. It was easy to picture him inside me, his warmth pulsating in a steady beat, and my back arched up as the heat between my legs increased, sighs and whimpers coming with every flick of my wrist. I was so far gone that I didn't even notice that he'd come closer until he wrenched my hands away from my body, and I snapped back to reality.

   He was completely nude, erect with a glistening head, and he nearly dove on top of me, entering me with a thundering roar and burying himself so deep that his pelvis slammed into mine.

   "Oh, God," I moaned, raking my nails down his back, not even caring that I won right then. He bit at my lips, ground himself against me, and pounded a furious rhythm, one hand pulling my hair and the other ripping the thin straps of the gown to free my breasts.

   "Is this what you want, Marie? For me to fuck you so hard that you bruise?"

   "Yes," I cried, working to meet my hips with his, forcing his head down to my chest. His back was bowed, knees placed firmly against the back of my thighs, and I'd never felt so possessed, so utterly dominated in all of my life. Negan was dripping with sweat, both from the exertion and from anger, and I licked a trail from his clavicle to just under his ear, desperately careening towards an orgasm, and when it hit, I felt it everywhere, from the top of my head to the tips of my toes, calling out his name like it was sacred.

   I'd missed every piece of him, every scar, every sharp edge, and now I had it all, filling me up both physically and emotionally. Never in my life had I ever thought that I'd need another human being as much as I needed him, and I shuddered through the contractions, squeezing around him while he continued his merciless pace.

   "Come for me, baby," I whispered, not even aware of what I was saying, just aching to feel that sweet warmth from inside, and he did a few thrusts later, groaning into my waiting lips, circling his tongue around as I experienced a second wave, breathless and covered with goosebumps.

   "God fucking damn it, Marie," he said, dropping his forehead onto my chest. I knew he was mad at me and mad at himself, but I wasn't. I was deliriously happy, tranced with joy, and I placed my hands on his cheeks, forcing him to look at me.

   "I'll marry you, Negan."

   "What?"

   "I said that I'll marry you."

   He was still inside me, and I locked my legs around his waist so that he couldn't escape, looking at him with dazed eyes. His narrowed, and I kissed him everywhere. His cheeks, his nose, his chin.

   "You just wanted to win, didn't you? You are fucking..."

   "Perfect for you," I finished, wiggling my hips, and he winced, tender from just finishing. "Don't ever say I didn't learn from you."

   "I-" He huffed, and I gave him what I hoped was a sexy grin.

   "You told me I was a lioness. I just had to show you that you were right."

   His control gave out, and he collapsed on top of me completely, shaking slightly. I had to lift my head to see his face, and he was laughing.

   "What?"

   "It doesn't matter," he smirked, and my smile faded. "I win, too. You said you'd marry me."

   Oh, crap.

   I did.


	73. The Golden Rule

 

   The bed jostled, waking me up and prompting me to open my eyes, seeing Negan's bare backside hovering above me, and it was dotted with marks, ones I'd made in the heat of passion.

   The night before, he'd finally submitted to me. Actually, we'd submitted to each other, and I was currently wearing the ring on my left hand, having had it placed there by my nude fiancee. With that hand, I reached out sleepily, tracing the spots I'd made on his skin with my teeth and mouth.

   "Sorry," I told him in a groggy voice, and he looked over his shoulder with a smile, twisting so that he was able to see what I was referring to. Each cheek had more than one hickey on it, and he laughed heartily, enough that my face turned pink. 

   " _I'm_ not, Angel," he said in a voice that was twice as rough as mine, reaching for his boxers. He slid them on easily before sitting down on the bed next to me, taking my hand and placing it to his lips, just next to the ring. He'd never looked happier or calmer, and truthfully, I was, too. 

   I had everything I wanted. A beautiful daughter, a man who loved me and wanted to make a permanent commitment, and family and friends that were doing well. The fact that I could barely move was just icing on the cake. Aside from the mindblowing pleasure that I'd received from the several bouts of lovemaking, the physical closeness was even better.

   Negan's smell, his taste, the feel of him made me want to stretch out like a cat in the sun, relaxed and content, and I freed my hand to pull him down for another kiss, still not completely satisfied.

   "I have to go," he groaned, working his way down my neck to my chest, peppering the area with kisses as I ran my fingers through his hair to try to smooth it down. "You've been properly fucked all night, and Rick's waiting for me." 

   I yanked his hair and he grunted.

   "Do you have to be so crass all of the time?"

   "Baby, you were way fucking filthier than I was last night, and my ass is showing the proof," he teased me, making me squirm underneath him. I had been uncharacteristically wild the previous night and it was still fresh in my mind. He knew me well, and before I could apologize, he looked up, bracing my head in his hands. "There's nothing wrong with what we did. In fact, it was all kinds of right. We're two adults in love, and we didn't do anything that I didn't want to."

   Negan was completely serene, and I relaxed slightly. My hands and mouth had gone places they never had before, and...I'd liked it. So had he, judging by the sounds he'd made, and he got back up, pulling me with him. His hand went absently to my stomach, and I think it was meant to be reassuring. 

   During our frequent couplings throughout the night, I became aware that he'd now seen all of my new stretch marks from the pregnancy, and I'd tried to hide them. It hadn't occurred to me when we were on the couch and he was between my legs then, but in the throes of desire on the bed, it slipped into my head. 

   "What are you doing?"

   His head popped up from my thighs when I'd started to use both hands to cover my abdomen. 

   "Nothing," I panted, spreading my fingers as he tried to pull them away. "I just forgot about my stretch marks."

   "So?" He nudged them out of the way, running his fingers across the faded lines, one eyebrow raised quizzically. 

   "They're just...ugly, that's all."

   "Angel, they're fucking badass. They're proof that you carried Nora, and I wish I would've been there with you. The thought of seeing you all big and filled out.." He groaned into my stomach, digging his fingers in. "You've never been hotter."

   "There are pictures in my house, over the fireplace," I murmured, using my hand to guide his head back down to my upper thighs, forgetting about my insecurities almost instantly. 

   Now, we had to go back to reality, and Negan was set to head out to see the herd with his own eyes, leaving me to spend the day with Nora. It felt like forever since it was just her and I, and I needed some one-on-one time. I loved that we were a family, but she was my girl, my special little thing, and I craved her.

   The two of us showered quickly, keeping it mostly platonic, and we set out for the front of Alexandria with his arm wrapped around my shoulders and mine around his waist. It was disgustingly sweet, and it earned us a few smiles from the other residents. 

   Nora was already up and dressed when we knocked, standing with Michonne at the door. She reached for me first, and I lifted her up, ignoring the sore muscles throughout my body, smooching her chubby cheeks. Michonne gave me a smirk until she noticed the ring on my finger, and her mouth went lopsided, seemingly feeling defeated for me. I winked quickly, stepping aside so that Negan could get in, and he took the baby, holding her high above his head, getting her to laugh heartily.

   "Dada," she laughed even harder when he nuzzled her with his beard, tickling her neck. 

   "Princess Nora," he announced in a serious voice. "You are looking lovely this morning."

   Rick came walking out with a thermos in each hand, giving one to Negan as he yawned.

   "How was she?" I asked, rubbing her back while Negan held her. 

   "Slept through the night. Ate her breakfast. She's a good kid," Rick said, sipping on his coffee, giving my hand a pointed look. "You ready?" he glanced to Negan with a hint of a smile. 

   "Let's go."

   Each female in the room got a kiss from their respective male, and they were gone a few moments later, both hands and mouths going a mile a minute as they headed towards Rick's truck. It was kind of cool and definitely weird to see them interacting so easily, but I didn't get the chance to ponder the strange sight, because Michonne took me by the arm and deposited me at the kitchen table, pouring me some coffee of my own.

   "You caved?" she prodded me, taking the seat across from me. "How did that happen?"

   "I didn't cave. I agreed to marry him afterward."

   "I thought that you wanted to wait on that," Michonne smiled, stirring some sugar into her cup. 

   "Well, it sounded moronic in hindsight to wait," I admitted, keeping one eye on the girls and the other on my hands. "I love him and he loves me, so why not just do it?"

   "That's romantic," she snorted, and I shrugged my shoulders. 

   "We're lucky to be together, considering everything that's happened. The fact that he and I are able to move forward is amazing, and if wearing a stupid ring without a real priest to bless us makes him happy, then I'll gladly wear it."

   "Good way to look at it," Michonne said, picking up Judith to set her on her lap. The little girl was holding a set of crayons and some paper, and she started to draw while we talked, with Nora watching her every move. She was trying to hard to emulate the older girl, and I wanted to make sure that they kept up a relationship even if we went back to Shadow Mountain. Nora was safe there, but she was missing out on peer relationships. We'd have to continue to bring her around both Judith and Hershel.

   After sitting for a while, I took her home to spend some time cuddling and playing, getting her bathed and changed. Rick and Negan would probably be gone all day, and I wondered if they were going to meet with Dwight and Sherry to discuss our future. It was entirely up to them whether or not Nora and I came back, and it made my throat close up to think about moving away. They'd been my family, my lifeline for the past two years, and I didn't want to lose that, but I wasn't going to be without Negan, either. 

   I could see him in Nora's face, in her demeanor. The intense look that she got sometimes when she was trying to work something out in her little toddler brain. Even the way her mouth would purse into a little 'o' just like his. He wasn't a part of her first year and a half, yet he was so much a part of her, and I wanted him to grow with her like I had. 

   We ate lunch and then went to the barn to feed the horses and let them run around, leaning against the fence as they ran together in circles, expelling the extra energy that they had built up. Michonne and Judith joined us for a while, and then we all helped out in the garden. It was normally Negan's deal, but since he'd been spending most of his time with us over the last few weeks, the vegetables were getting out of hand. 

   Alexandria had three greenhouses in addition to the outdoor rows, and we chipped in, even the girls. Nora and Judith worked together, picking beans, and we gathered up a small basket of assorted veggies to make a stir-fry, and I invited the Grimes girls to join us. It reminded me of our group dinners back home, when each of us would cook one night a week. In addition to saving food, it also gave us a chance to catch up with each other, and I had Michonne call Aaron and Jesus and invite them over as well.

   They were staying at Aaron's place for a few days, and they showed up with cobbler and smiles, looking very much in love. I'd actually never seen Jesus so happy, and he sat with the girls, reading to them while I finished up dinner, listening with half an ear to Aaron and Michonne chat about the Hilltop. 

   Maggie was looking to expand her walls again since they'd found another group of survivors, and there was a trailer park about ten miles away that still had some mobile homes that were in good condition. Aaron and Jesus were heading up a group to retrieve them and section off a new tract of land that sat closer to the woods. I was impressed at the world she was building there, and they had plans to breed more cattle and chickens. Between there and the Kingdom, I was one step closer to a hamburger, and I stared longingly at the rice, wishing that it was a steak. 

   Everyone was gone and the house was cleaned up when I finally put Nora to bed, carrying the monitor back down with me to wait for Negan. I'd assumed that he'd be back by the time it got dark, and I had a snack while I lounged on the couch, feeling oddly lonely again. Normally when the baby went to sleep at home, I'd clean up and then join her in bed after spending some time on the deck, avoiding that late-night sense of unease without anyone else in my life. While Dwight had Sherry, and Jeff and Sue were married, I was alone. Even Debbie and Kale shared a house as brother and sister, and Warner was best friends with Dave. Strange how one night alone made me feel that way again.

   The clock struck twelve, and there was still no sign of Rick and Negan, so I turned off the lights and got onto the mattress next to Nora, brushing her hair softly, watching her sleep. Her little chest was moving up and down, and she sighed, rolling onto her side towards me. A burst of love washed over me, and I snuggled down next to her, shutting my eyes.

   A pain in my scalp woke me up, and it ended up being Nora, laying there quietly with my hair wrapped around her fingers.

   "Good morning, sweet pea," I whispered, kissing her forehead, and she let go of me to get to a sitting position. 

   "Dada?"

   "Dada's not home." 

   Nora got onto my stomach, laying her head on my chest, and I sat up, carrying her over to change her diaper. She was only wet, and as soon as I got her a fresh one, we went down for breakfast, chowing down on some oatmeal. 

   Why weren't they back yet? They were only going to see the herd, and it shouldn't take this long, yet there was no sign of them. I began to get nervous, thinking that something went wrong, that they were swallowed up by thousands of walkers. Realistically, I knew that Rick and Negan weren't stupid enough to get too close. Separately. 

   But together? That much testosterone and desire to prove who had the biggest member? Eesh.

   It was time to check in with Michonne and see if she'd heard from Rick. Nora shoved in the last few bits of oatmeal, and I wiped her down so that we could head out. The morning air had a bit of a bite to it, one of those crisp, pre-fall feelings, and I hustled towards Rick's house, knocking twice before just walking in.

   Michonne was sitting on the floor with Judith, and she gave me a serene smile when I joined her on the rug.

   "I just talked to Rick. They're on their way back."

   "Are they okay? Why didn't they come back last night?" I asked, setting Nora loose to run around.

   "He said that they watched the herd for a while, and it was almost dark by the time they got close to Dwight's, so they just spent the night your place."

   "Oh, no," I wheezed. "Did Dwight and Negan see each other?" I hadn't even thought about that aspect of it when he left, and now it was dominating my mind. 

   "Rick said to tell you not to worry," she said knowingly. "Negan's alive and well."

   I rolled my eyes to play it off, but it didn't change the fact that it concerned me. The question of where we were going to live was ultimately going to be in Dwight and Sherry's hands, and I may actually have my answer as soon as today. It was as big a deal as the herd was to me, but I swallowed down the butterflies that were making their way up my throat, throwing myself headlong into playtime. 

   Judy and Nora were both witches, wielding magic wands that could put Michonne and me to sleep at any time, no matter what we were doing. Talking, walking, it didn't matter. As soon as the spells were cast, we slumped down to the floor, and only a kiss could bring us back. Mine were sloppily given, but I loved that she cared enough to revive her mama.

   I was put under for a fifth time, sprawled out on the living room floor when I heard the front door open and two sets of footsteps sounded by my head, making my heart race. 

   "Uh, what's happening?" Rick's voice carried through the room, confused at finding me and Michonne pretending to be unconscious and two girls running around with sticks and glittered faces.

   "Momma and Marie are under a spell," Judy said. "They can't wake up until they get kissed."

   The heat of another body loomed over me as warm breath blew across my face, and I felt soft lips brush mine. My eyelids fluttered dramatically as I gasped with renewed life, ready to thank the prince.

   Negan was grinning but I wasn't, my face immediately registering surprise at his appearance. 

   "What happened?"

   He had a fat lip and a black eye, but he was as happy as a pig in crap, and I took his outstretched hand, getting up to a sitting position as Nora launched herself at him.

   "Dada!"

   "Hey, baby girl," he cooed, hugging her to his chest as I scrambled up. Rick was listening to Judith as she told him about her night and how she played with Aaron and Jesus and that she was now a powerful witch. Michonne shot me a look, but I missed it since I was still staring at Negan's wrecked face. 

   "Negan?" I prodded him, but he held up a finger for me to wait, letting Nora grip the whiskers on his chin. 

   He ended up not even talking to me until we got back to Daryl's house, turning on a movie for the baby to watch and steering me into the kitchen for privacy.

   "Are you going to tell me what's going on?" I sniped, leaning against the counter and crossing my arms, but he opened the fridge, extracting a bottle of water and taking a long sip as I started to tap my foot impatiently. 

   "Dwight beat the shit out of me," he said, taking the spot next to me as my mouth dropped. 

   "How is that possible? He's like, half your size."

   "I let him."

   "You _let_ him?" I said, my mouth dropping open. "Why?"

   "Because it led to a really long talk that was way overdue, and we cleared the air about a lot of things," he said, using his index finger to rub my arm reassuringly. "Most importantly, if you're ready to go home, you can."

   "I told you I'm not going without you," I muttered, staring at the refrigerator, and he didn't answer until I looked back into his eyes, finally getting what he was hinting at. "Really?"

   "Start packing, Angel. We're leaving today," he grinned.


	74. And A Child Shall Lead Them

  
   Even though he complained like a child, Negan let me drive the truck since we were hauling the horses, and I'd had more experience with them than he ever did. We were parked in front of the gates of Alexandria, grabbing a few last minute things before going back to Shadow Mountain. 

   Together.

   When he'd told me that he'd talked to Dwight, fought with him, actually, I'd been aghast. His face was sporting the evidence of the brawl, but it had led to a truce of sorts. An airing of past hurts and slights, not the least of which was Dwight's face. 

   One of my dearest friends was able to convey to Negan without the threat of repercussion just how much he'd suffered at the former leader's hands, and it was no doubt a tough thing to listen to, but he did. He apologized and owned up to everything that he'd done wrong, every bad deed that had scarred Dwight not only physically but mentally. It had led to his being accepted as my family and allowed us to return together as a group.

   Negan had a hold of Nora and set her in the car seat, fumbling around with the restraints until finally throwing up his hands in frustration and letting me do the honors. She was ready for her nap, and I wanted to get on the road soon so that she could sleep the whole way home. Though she was still so young, she understood that we were going back to our house, and the mere mention of Warner, Dave, and even Daryl had her practically vibrating with excitement. 

   There was one person wasn't happy, and that was Judith. When Rick and Michonne told her that we were leaving, she'd started to cry, scrubbing at her eyes with balled up fists, and I'd picked her up, promising her that we'd be back soon, even inviting her to come and spend a few days with us. It didn't take all of the sadness away, but it helped a little, and she was currently in Rick's arms, watching with glassy eyes and hiccuping noises. 

   "We'll be there tomorrow with Aaron and Jesus," he told us, and Negan walked over to shake his hand, his voice cracking lightly.

   "Thank you. Thank you for giving me a second chance."

   "Don't waste it," Rick said, looking at him solemnly. "The world needs strong people to make it better."

   While they were talking, Michonne came and gave me a hug, patting me on the back. 

   "I'll see you tomorrow."

   "I can't wait," I replied, feeling a lump in my throat. Though I'd known her for years, I felt like the past few weeks brought me a new understanding of Michonne. I'd always viewed her as a stoic, formidable woman, and she was. But she was also caring, warm and very fun, and I hoped to continue to get to know her better. 

   Eugene opened the gates for us, and I hit the gas lightly to get us moving, bouncing up and down in my seat with excitement. I couldn't wait to get back to my house and my friends, and I checked the trailer in the mirror, linking hands with Negan once we were on the highway.

   "Did you see my house?" I asked as Nora whined quietly in the back seat. Negan was looking at me with an incredulous expression, and I frowned. "What?"

   "Don't you mean _our_ house?"

   "Oh, yeah," I grinned. "Did you see it, though?"

   "I saw it," he muttered, reaching back to give Nora her binky, even though I knew he hated that she used it once in a while. But I wasn't going to listen to her cry the whole way, so he was out of luck. 

   "What? You didn't like it?"

   "No, it's fu-," he stopped. "It's really cool, it's just..."

   "Too girly?"

   "I need, like, a beer sign or something in there. We have to butch it up a little bit. Something that says a man lives there," he said, stretching his legs.

   "Oh, Lord," I huffed. "We wouldn't want your male ego taking a beating, would we? That's your big concern?"

   "You asked, and I answered," he sounded prissy, and I gave up, letting go of his hand. 

   We were together, embarking on a new life, and he was worried about beer signs. Sometimes I really didn't understand men at all.

   "Whatever you want, dear," I said in a placating tone, turning on the radio. There was a cd in, and a lullaby filled the cab of the truck, further helping Nora to drift off, allowing me to concentrate on the road. It was clear of walkers, but there were a few spots where the asphalt was dicey, and I had to swerve around some large potholes which made the trailer sway. 

   Deciding to slow down for a while, I kept my eyes peeled for any signs of danger, both human and inanimate, drumming my fingers on the wheel. There was so much I wanted to do and show him once we got there. Nora's favorite places, my secret bushes in the meadow. Even the gardens, if he decided that he wanted to work in them. 

   "What are you thinking about, Angel? You've been quiet for a while."

   "There's just so much I want to do with you when we get back," I sighed happily, and his hand brushed my thigh.

   "Really?" He gave a seductive purr, making me snort.

   "Not just that, perv," I laughed. "I'm talking about the grounds, and what's outside our fences. Stuff that Nora loves there. It's the kind of place I always dreamt of having."

   His hand went slack against my leg, and I glanced over to see that he was staring pensively out the window. I left him to his thoughts, speaking up only when we were almost through the mountain. 

   "Are you okay?" 

   "I'm good, Angel. Just ready to start the next chapter of my life with my two favorite people on the planet."

   "Well, hang onto your butt, because we're almost home," I snickered and he sighed at my corniness. "Hey, you knew I was lame when we met. It's too late now to do anything about it."

   "Never change, sweetheart."

   It felt like I'd been gone for years when the fence finally came into sight, and I drove the rest of the way with a silly grin plastered on my face. Jeff was waiting for us at the gate, and he opened it as I waved to him, heading straight for the barn to get the horses unloaded.

   I was barely out of the truck before Warner had me in a bear hug, swinging me so fast that my legs flew out behind me.

   "You're back," he laughed, setting me on the ground. "I thought we'd lost you forever."

   "Of course not. This is my home," I punched him in the arm as Negan came around the side holding Nora, who was still asleep. He nodded politely at Warner, whose smile faltered slightly. "You met Negan already?"

   "Yeah. Good to see you again, man," he extended his hand, shaking Negan's. 

   "Nice to see you, too, kid."

   "Warner, do you mind helping me with the horses?" I asked, starting towards the trailer. "I want to get them unloaded so I can get Negan and Nora settled."

   "No problem. Daryl's around here somewhere. He's been staying with Debbie," he grimaced, unlatching the back of the trailer with ease. "It's been...awkward."

   I fought the urge to bust out laughing as he jumped up to get the first horse. I could only imagine how weird it was to see the two of them together, and it didn't take long for them to show up with Kale trailing behind them.

   As soon as Daryl and I made I contact, I got pink cheeks, and I asked him if I could talk to him for a minute. He followed me around the side of the barn and I hurriedly apologized for putting him in such a ridiculous position.

   "It's okay," he assured me, looking at the ground. "I figured he did somethin' to upset ya."

   "It's not his fault, Daryl. I acted like a jerk, and I hope you don't take it personally."

   "We're good," he shrugged, still not looking at me. "Ya should probably know that Debbie and I are kinda...together. I think I'm gonna stay here permanently."

   "That's so freaking awesome," I clapped him on the back, heading towards the truck. "And I already knew you two were hooking up, remember?"

   Debbie was standing next to Negan, and she gave me a huge smile when I walked back over, hugging me quickly before Kale took her place. Her eyes never strayed far from Daryl, but unlike before, his flitted back to her, too. The only other person that could capture his attention in our group was Nora, and I saw that he was itching to get his hands on her.

   She was awake, looking around warily until she spied me over Negan's shoulder, and she reached out to me with downturned lips. I tapped his arm, and he handed her over to me, following Warner back into the barn with George to see which stall was his.

   "We're home, sweet pea," I murmured, "and look who's here."

   "Day," she lifted one arm as he wiggled his fingers at her, taking her and grinning when he laid her head against his neck. 

   "How's my girl?"

   She grunted, letting out a deep breath, and I left her with Daryl and the others to see what Negan and Warner were doing in the barn. Surprisingly enough, they were talking animatedly about the horse, and Warner was doubled over laughing as Negan described riding George.

   "Yeah, he's not that smart," Warner wheezed, and I went into Sable's stall, fixing her up with some food and water. So far, so good, but I still wanted to see Sherry and Dwight to make sure that they were really okay with this. 

   When the three of us emerged from the barn, Daryl, Debbie, and Kale were gone, but I saw that our bags had been taken out of the truck, so I assumed that they were in the cabin with Nora. Warner took off since it was his night to cook, and Negan and I made our way towards the front of the property.

   "I'll go check on Nora," he told me, kissing my forehead as he veered towards Dragonfly, and I didn't blame him. After taking a beating from Dwight, I couldn't imagine that he wanted to sit around and play catch up with Sherry and I. It had taken Daryl and Dwight time to get to the place that they were at, so I wasn't going to hold out any fantasies of us being attached at the hip anytime soon. 

   But I was anxious to see the happy family, and I scooted off towards the main building, climbing the steps two at a time and knocking lightly in case Adam was sleeping. 

   Dwight answered the door almost immediately, ushering me inside with a towel on his shoulder. He looked exhausted and happy at the same time, and I hugged him quickly before spying my girl on the couch, laying with the baby on her chest. 

   I was next to her in a jiff, kissing her cheek before doing the same to Adam, making her smile tiredly. 

   "Thank Christ you're back," she mumbled, shutting her eyes like she couldn't keep them open any longer. "I'm so fucking tired."

   "I'm back, sister. Tell me what I can do to help."

   "Can you just watch him so that I can get a shower?" she yawned, passing him to me.

   "Of course. I've been itching for some time with this boy," I whispered while she got to her feet. Dwight took her spot, rubbing his face while I rocked Adam back and forth. Neither one of us said anything, and the silence felt loaded and pungent, like Negan was sitting between us. 

   "Thank you," I finally offered, looking up to meet his gaze. "I can't imagine how hard it was for you to set aside the past, and let me have a future here."

   "We love you," he said quietly, keeping his eyes on mine. "We didn't want you to leave, but it's going to take time to get used to the fact that he's here. Seeing him in the place that we made to be a direct contrast to the Sanctuary is fucking freaky, Marie."

   "I hope, in time it'll get easier for you both, I really do. He's changed, Dwight. He's good to me, and he's wonderful with Nora. Even Rick sees that it's different now."

   "I know. Besides," he pointed out, "Sherry told him if he so much as made you cry, she was going to cut his dick off and feed it to a walker."

   Well, that was both disgusting and sweet at the same time. Leave it to Sherry to put her two cents in. 

   The conversation switched to Adam, and Dwight admitted that they were struggling a bit since the baby's internal clock was all mixed up. He wanted to doze all day and then was up all night. Both of them were at a loss as to what to do, and I offered him some advice, along with my services during the day in case they wanted to nap or get other things done. 

   "Fucking sold," Sherry said, coming back into the room in clean clothes and wet hair. "This little bugger is going to be the death of me if I don't get him to start sleeping more than two hours a night. I love him, but he's stubborn as fuck."

   "Gee, I wonder where he gets it from."

   I sat with the two of them, catching up until Warner called over the radio to let everyone know that dinner was ready. Promising to bring them some food, I took my leave, the last one to arrive. 

   Negan and Nora were already set up and eating, and I sat down beside him, resting my hand on his thigh after greeting the rest of our group. He reached under the table to squeeze my fingers, and it made my heart feel like it was going to burst. He was here with me and with Nora, and a part of me was waiting for the other shoe to drop, for someone to burst in and announce that it was all a big mistake, that he had to leave. But nothing happened. We ate, we chatted with the others. Nora made a mess. It was wonderful.

   Once dinner was done, Dave packed up some food for Dwight and Sherry, but Daryl offered to take it over so that we could get Nora settled for the night. Negan thanked him, and we set off, letting our baby walk in between us, though it took us twice as long to get back since she kept stopping and picking up little rocks. By the time we got into the house, it was dark and I had a hand full of pebbles. When she wasn't looking, I tossed them over the rail, and it sounded like muted fireworks as they hit the stone.

   Negan seemed to know his way around, and I let him take her up to get bathed, listening from the base of the steps as he sang to her and told her all of the things they had to look forward to. Walks, fishing, even horseback riding. I leaned my head against the banister, feeling my eyes well up as she chirped back at him with a bunch of nonsensical syllables. I was the luckiest woman alive. 

   I got even luckier when Negan came back down the steps, lifting me up and over his shoulder, carrying me into the downstairs bedroom. He tossed me onto the bed, climbing on top of me with a smirk, but I couldn't smile back. I just reached out to him, tracing the lines of his face with the tips of my fingers, memorizing every inch of him. The way his hair was falling over his forehead, the chips of light brown that stood out from the darker chocolate color of his eyes. Black and white bristles of hair on his cheeks, longer than humanly possible after only one day of not shaving. A plump lower lip that was currently glistening since he'd just run his tongue across it. All of it was mine, now. 

   "Why so serious?" he asked, getting down on his elbows as he wedged his way between my legs, pressing his stomach against mine. I continued to run my hands over his face, using my thumbs to follow his cheekbone, skirting the swollen area from where Dwight had punched him. 

   "Not serious. Just enjoying the view," I said. He puffed out his chest, getting a twinkle in his eyes, and I could feel him rub his pelvis against mine. 

   "I believe you told me you had 'so much' that you wanted to show me," he shifted his weight to one arm so that he could lift up the front of my shirt. That simple act sent a buzzing warmth straight up my spine, and I went limp underneath him. 

   "I think we'll start the tour right here," Negan rumbled, dipping his head down to my chest.

   It was the best welcome home present I could've ever gotten.


	75. Spare the Rod

  
   Negan and I brought our horses to a stop at the same time, and I studied his face as he looked around. This was his first time seeing the entire property, and our last stop was the meadow. When we'd gotten up in the morning, he'd asked that I show him everything so that he could get the lay of the land. He wanted to know all of the areas that we patrolled and where we went, going so far as to tell me that it would be good practice riding George.

   I was happy to do it, since it gave us some time alone together, and we embarked at first light on a leisurely ride around the property. Sue had been gracious enough to take Nora for the morning, and we set out towards the east side of Shadow Mountain. Negan took it all in with a trained eye, pointing out a few areas where the fence was dragging, and he made plans to get it rebuilt. 

   We'd seen only one walker on that side, and I'd galloped forward, despite his objections, taking it out easily with my scythe. When I looked back, he was shaking his head in a combination of frustration and admiration, and I gave him a cheeky smile. 

   "I'm better at this than you think I am."

   "I see that," he muttered, pressing George's side to catch up with me. 

   Dwight had set up some traps, and one of them had been triggered by a fat hare. It was strung up by its leg, struggling weakly, and I went to dismount to end its suffering, but Negan hopped off before I could, going straight to it and bashing its head in. The poor thing stopped moving, and he pulled it free, resetting the trap as I tried to hide my surprise. I had no idea that he knew how to set them, but he was confident and precise as it put it back in place.

   "Impressive," I said as he mounted back up, stuffing the rabbit into his burlap sack. 

   "I wasn't always just a figurehead, Angel. Before the Sanctuary, we had to hunt for fresh meat. Dwight taught me a few things."

   "I never thought of you as a figurehead."

   He snorted but didn't say anything else, and we continued on our way. The rest of the area was clear, but he made some suggestions about clearing some brush that sat in the full sun, thinking that we could either plant open crops or set up a greenhouse, similar to what Alexandria had done. The man in black was focused, this time on bettering our circumstances through hard work, and it was very alluring. 

   Our last stop was the meadow, and he followed my lead, dismounting and sending George off behind Sable with a light slap to his hindquarters. It was just as beautiful and peaceful as I remembered, but I had a mission here, and it was to gather the last of the berries and then trim the bushes down for fall.

   I handed him one of the sacks, and we got down to business, picking every berry that was still edible. No one had come out to keep up with them, and some were overripe, so I tossed them aside for the horses. With two of us doing it, less time was spent harvesting, and the bags were filled in short order. 

   Sable came over while we worked, picking at the fruit hungrily while pawing at the grass, and Negan took a break to stretch his back, watching over me as I knelt down to start trimming the bushes. 

   "So this is your life, huh Angel?"

   "Is it everything you thought it would be?" I asked, peering up into the sun to look at him. 

   He squatted down next to me, popping a few raspberries into his mouth, chewing them slowly. 

   "I could get used to this," he mused, kissing me with stained lips. They were sweet, and I licked them with a low noise. We'd spent the previous night tangled up together, making up for two years, and I still wasn't satisfied. But a field filled with bugs and snorting horses wasn't exactly conducive to a spontaneous romp, so I broke contact. There was also the fact that Rick and the others were due to arrive at any time, so I went back to pruning the bushes while Negan prowled around the meadow, no doubt trying to come up with some other uses for it. 

   When I called him over, his brain was working overtime, and I handed him the bags as I whistled for Sable. She responded immediately, and George followed suit, both taking some berries from my outstretched hand, and Negan secured the supplies, climbing back up. 

   All in all, I felt like our first excursion out had been a success, and I let him lead the way back to the barn, for once admiring the view from behind him. He looked much better on the horse, all broad shoulders and narrow-waisted. There was no longer a jackhammer quality to his gait. He moved only slightly, his hips rocking more forward, and I let out a wolf whistle.  
I received a smoldering smile for my trouble, and I grinned the rest of the way back. My Nora was right where she always was when we came into sight, waving excitedly in Sue's arms as we approached. 

   "Mama! Dada!"

   Her cheeks were pink with happiness and her eyes were wide, seeing both of us on horses at the same time, and I trotted around George to greet her. She wanted to be picked up, and Sue made the transfer carefully, helping me put her securely on the front of my saddle. 

   From there, we walked slowly back to the barn, and Sable stopped in front of her stall. My mare was as reliable as I was, and I sat on her for a few minutes, letting Nora pet her until Negan got George put away and came to take her. 

   "Dada, hose," she told him, and it was apparently supposed to be brand new information to him, so he reacted appropriately, giving her a surprised face. 

   "Look at my princess riding the horse. You're such a big girl," he cooed, setting her on his shoulders.

   "Big goo," she repeated, making me smile as I slid down, freeing the horse from the saddle. It made Negan light up, the fact that he'd taught her new words, and they stared at each other in an almost wonderous way. 

   "Yes! Big girl," he repeated, laughing heartily. "You're my big girl."

   I was forgotten as the two of them left the barn, and I put the horses away, feeling a bit like Cinderella. They were off to the ball, and I was cleaning up the muck. But he needed that special time with her, so George and Sable were my tasks for the next several minutes, getting them set up and fed. 

   By the time I started back towards home, I saw that Rick and company had just arrived, and I bypassed the cabin to go to Dwight and Sherry's. Warner and Jeff were a few yards ahead of me, so I jogged to catch up with them, catching the end of their conversation.

   "I don't think we can put it off any longer," Jeff was saying, wiping at his brow with a white handkerchief. "It keeps me up at night just thinking that they could scale the west block while we're sleeping. We're lucky that they haven't moved yet."

   "I know," Warner admitted with a grunt, "but there's just so many of them."

   I walked silently next to them, assuming that a plan would come to fruition today no matter what. There were too many people with prior experience and good ideas to not figure out what to do.

   Jeff, ever the gentleman, held the door to the main cabin open, and I headed for the large great room where everyone else was already assembled. Negan was sitting on the loveseat with Nora on his lap, and he patted the cushion next to him for me to join him. 

   Everyone else was scattered around the room, and I nodded to Michonne and Rick. Along with Jesus and Aaron, they'd brought Eugene, Carol, and Ezekiel. The gang was all here.  
Dwight cleared his throat to quiet the murmurs, standing in the center of the room. Sherry was in the rocking chair, doing her best to keep Aaron awake, but the tot just wouldn't keep his eyes open. 

   "I'd like to thank you all for coming," Dwight began, stuffing his hands in his pockets. Clearly, he'd been elected to speak for our group, and he didn't seem all that jazzed about it. "As all of you know, there's a massive herd a few miles from here that we've been keeping watch over, but it's time to figure out how to get rid of them. If we don't, there's no telling where they'll end up, and it could be your communities after ours."

   Carol was watching him with furrowed brows, and I wasn't sure how much she'd been told beforehand. 

   "For those of you that haven't seen it...it's intense," he continued. "They're currently in the Kohl Valley, which is sort of U-shaped. There must've been a rockslide or something, because the east exit is narrowed down, by the riverbed. It's good, because it'll slow down their exit, but it's still wide enough to cause a stampede."

   "So, how many walkers are we talking about?" Carol asked, leaning forward. 

   "Thousands." Rick gave her a knowing look, and I assumed it was because they'd had a large herd before. He'd mentioned it a while ago, but their plan to just lead them away had gone awry. "Worse than at the quarry."

   "Oh, great," she muttered, and I reached for Negan's hand, linking my fingers between his. The herd was always just an abstract for me, but the reality was that it probably had to be seen to be believed, not that I wanted to see it anytime soon. 

   "My thought was to lead them towards the Potomac," Jeff looked at Sue, tucking his handkerchief into his pocket. "There's a stretch there that would sweep them away."

   "And how far is it from here?" Negan asked, though no one but Jeff acknowledged him. 

   "At least sixty miles," he shrugged. "Give or take."

   A ripple ran through the group as Eugene cleared his throat. 

   "With a herd that size, moving them at a clip of 1 mile an hour, plus calculating in breaks and assorted unforeseen events, I speculate that it would take us about a week to get them there. That's if everything went according to plan, and in my opinion, there is just too much that could go wrong."

   "Well, what's your idea?" Jeff was slightly irritated at Eugene's deadpan tone, and his face was flushing. He'd never encountered the mulleted man before, so I could see why he was offended at the immediate dismissal of his plan.

   "I do not currently possess an idea, as I have not seen the aforementioned herd with my own eyes. I am simply trying to poke holes in whatever you good people come up with until there are no more holes left to poke. I, for one, do not intend to move forward with a plan unless I am absolutely sure that I will be safe. I'm sure you can appreciate that, sir."

   I bit my lip to keep from smiling, and Carol did as well. No one else seemed to be as amused, but hey, he was just funny to me. Smart, but odd.

   "Hey, Jeff," I interjected, diverting his attention. "What are those machines called that cut wheat?"

   "A thresher?"

   "Yeah. Do you think they can cut through bone?"

   "Maybe a few," he said, taking his seat again, "but it would clog up pretty quickly."

   "Are there any places around here that have big machinery? Like a junkyard or a factory? If it's close and we can get it up and running, maybe we could lead them there and file them in," Negan had a spark in his eye, and I thought that maybe he was onto something. 

   Dwight went into the kitchen, returning with an old phone book, and Negan handed Nora over to me to look over his shoulder as he thumbed through it. 

   "There's a paving company that's about three miles away and a stamping plant..." he ran his thumb down the page, "maybe six miles on the other side of the valley."

   "So, the paving place should have rock crushers," Negan glanced at Rick, who nodded absently. He seemed to be deep in thought, trying to ascertain which would be the best option. 

   "Eugene, what would it take to get the rock crushers running?"

   "They are more than likely diesel-powered machines," he said with a blank look. "I'd need to see them to make sure I am correct, but as long as the bones are intact, we could have them up and running right quick. The stamping plant would require electricity, though they might have their own self-sufficient power source. I would also need to evaluate it as well."

   "Rick, do you feel up for another road trip?" Negan asked, clapping his hands together. Daryl pushed himself off of the wall, joining the circle of men, quickly followed by Ezekiel.

   Sherry peered around them, rolling her eyes. ' _Testosterone_ ', she mouthed to me, and I stuck my tongue at her.

   "Why don't we split up into two groups and each take a site, so we can see what we're working with." Rick pointed to Jeff, "You can come with me, Dwight, Carol, Aaron, and Ezekiel. Daryl, Negan, and the two young guys can go with Jesus."

   "We'll take the paving place," Daryl muttered, heading out to get some weapons. Debbie and Kale followed behind him, and he looked annoyed that he wasn't asked to go along with the other guys. 

   "Why didn't you ask Kale to go along?" I looked at Rick questioningly, and his eyes widened slightly. 

   "Oh, I thought that he should stay here to help protect this place. We can't all leave."

   Michonne scoffed, and his shoulders stiffened. 

   "It's fine, Officer Grimes. The rest of us will keep watch," she said, rising and walking out. Negan motioned for me to get up, and he took me by the arm to lead me back to the house. 

   "That was fucking awkward as hell," he chuckled, opening the door. Nora was ready for her nap, and I put her in the downstairs bedroom while Negan got some knives and my gun, making sure the safety was on before sticking it in his waistband. He was entirely too excited to make this trip, and I watched him unhappily as he pulled an army jacket out of the closet. Where he found it, I have no idea, but it looked good on him. Not as good as the leather jacket, but honestly, the man wore everything well.

   "Please be careful."

   He smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling up as he wrapped his arms around me, resting his chin on the top of my head. I just got him back, and I didn't want him to do anything stupid, like try to take on a bunch of walkers just to prove that he was still a badass.

   "I'll be careful, Angel. We're just gonna check it out, see what kind of condition it's in. You don't have to worry about me going all Rambo out there."

   Tipping my head back, I kissed him, squeezing his waist for emphasis. Normally, he would've engaged further, but the lure of a men's outing was too much to resist, and he extracted himself from my embrace, practically running for the door with a wave of his hand. 

   Alrighty, then.

   While Nora napped, I studied Michonne through the window as she prowled the area. Why Rick didn't let her go, I didn't know, but she seemed to be very unhappy about it. After the third pass, I rapped on the glass, gesturing for her to join me. She came stalking through the door, looking around the house before sitting down at my kitchen table.

   I set a coffee cup in front of her, and she turned it around in a circle with a sour expression. 

   "So, what's the deal with you two?" I finally asked, getting a glare for my trouble. "Rick's never not included you in a decision before."

   "I'm pregnant," she said, exhaling deeply, and I let out a muted squeal, jumping out of my chair to hug her. 

   "Oh my God. Congratulations!"

   "Thanks."

   It was unemotional, and I pulled back to see that she was on the verge of tears. Obviously, this wasn't a planned event, and I sat back down, taking her hand. She blew out another breath to try to regain her composure, wiping her eyes.

   "I'm...ambivalent," she admitted. "This wasn't something that I ever wanted again. Carl and Judith are mine now, for all intents, and I didn't think that I could even have that after losing my son."

   "I'm so sorry, Michonne."

   "It happened at the beginning," she said, smiling morosely. "I made my peace with it as much as I could, but now, since I found out, he's all I can think about."

   "I can't even imagine," I sympathized, unsure of what to say. 

   "Oh, I wouldn't want you to. I'm just trying to work my way through this. Rick is thrilled, of course, but we literally just found out, and now I'm breakable. Kept under glass so that I'm safe."

   She kept talking, and I just listened, not trying to offer her advice. I had no idea how far along she was because she seemed okay when I was at Alexandria. Regardless, I was happy for her. Children were a gift, and she was an amazing mother already.

   Once the coffee was gone, she excused herself to get some fresh air, and I sat lost in my thoughts for a while. It wasn't out of the realm of possibility for me to get pregnant again. Negan and I had been having unprotected sex, and it really hadn't crossed my mind to even ponder it. 

   Nora took up so much of my time that having another one might actually put me six feet under. What if I had a boy? What if he was just like Negan? The imagery was both thrilling and frightening, and I went back to the window, chewing on my thumbnail absently. First, we needed to get rid of this herd, and then I could think about expanding my family.


	76. Stained Glass and Gentle Hearts

   Rolling over in bed, my hand landed on a cool pillow. An empty pillow, and my eyes fluttered open to see that I was alone. Negan was supposed to be back hours ago, and I squinted at the clock, seeing that it was after eleven. The numbers were glowing lightly, and I sat up, listening to the monitor. It was quiet, so Nora was sound asleep, but the house felt cool, so I left the warm cocoon of my blankets and shuffled into the living room to turn on the heat for the first time in months. 

   It wooshed to life, a stagnant smell filling the air from the vents, and I was on my way back to bed when I saw that my knives and gun were sitting on the table by the front door. He wasn't in the kitchen, nor upstairs, so I peeked out of the sliding doors to see that Negan was sitting on the lounge chair with a glass of whiskey, staring up at the sky.

   There was an afghan laying on the footstool, and I wrapped it around my shoulders, opening the door. I was hit with a cool breeze, and I tiptoed over to him. He swung his legs down, spreading them, and I climbed between them, laying back against his chest, covering us both with the blanket. 

   I could smell the whiskey on his breath, and he swirled it around in the glass. The fairy lights were reflecting off of the surface, tiny dots dancing on the moving liquid. Underneath the covers, I rubbed my hand along his leg, waiting for him to speak. He was out here for a reason, and I knew he'd tell me why in time. 

   It was quiet outside, cool enough that not even the crickets were chirping, and I could feel the tip of my nose getting chilled as we sat. 

   "They fucking hate me," he muttered after a moment, and I squeezed his knee reassuringly. 

   "What happened?"

   He sighed, taking another drink, and I tilted my head back and to the side to gaze up at him. Still looking up at the sky, he swallowed hard, clearing his throat.

   "It's like being the unpopular kid at fucking school or some shit. The entire day, everyone fucking avoided me, or just outright ignored me. I was a pariah at Alexandria and I'm a fucking nonentity here."

   I sat up, twisting around to face him, swinging my legs over his hips. My toes were freezing, but I took him by the chin, forcing him to look at me. The pain in his eyes made my heart ache, and I knew that he was hurting.

   "You're not a nonentity, Negan. You're a smart capable guy who went off the track, and it hurt people."

   "I know that, Marie-"

   "Just let me finish," I shushed him, running my thumb across his lips. He gave me a baleful look, and I kissed it away with a smile. "I know that you don't need to be reminded of the past. My point is, you're starting off in the negative. You knew it, and so did I. But you're so much more than that, and if you give it time, they'll see that, too. You came up with a good plan, and you have so much to offer. I don't hitch my wagons to losers."

   "You're fucking biased," he grumbled, and I shrugged nonchalantly. 

   "You lost your way. You're not the only one to ever do so, and you certainly won't be the last. But you've changed, sweetheart. You're out of the cell for a reason. Use your considerable charm and show them who you really are."

   "Huh," he huffed, and I repositioned myself so that I was laying against him on my side, covering my toes again. He draped one arm around my waist, swallowing the rest of the whiskey, setting the glass on the table.

   "How did it go, otherwise?"

   "The paving factory is in pretty good shape. There were about a dozen walkers inside the fence. The mullet thinks he can have the rock grinders up and running in two days, and Rick's taking him to the stamping plant tomorrow."

   "Are you going with?"

   "If I'm not blackballed," he grumbled. I leaned up and kissed the side of his neck. 

   "I still like you."

   "You'd better love me, Angel."

   "I do," I said, nibbling at the soft skin. "God knows I do."

   He tapped his fingers on my hip for a few minutes, and when it got too chilly, I sat up, hauling him to his feet. We locked up the house and he fell into the bed beside me, folding me into his arms, sliding his leg between mine.

   I was almost out again when Nora stirred above us, letting out a whimper. After a few seconds, she settled back down, and I finally got back to sleep, waking up just as the sun was rising. Negan was still asleep, so I did my business in the bathroom, starting coffee and retrieving the baby from her room. She had been laying quietly in the bed, playing with her feet, and I brought her into the kitchen for breakfast, the smell of Arabian roast filling the air.

   Negan came in a short while later, seeming more like himself, and he kissed me and Nora good morning. We had no more than taken a sip of coffee when Rick knocked on the door.

   I shouted for him to come in, and he helped himself to a cup of joe, ruffling Nora's hair when he sat down. At least Rick was talking to him, I thought, as the two discussed the trip back to the stamping plant. According to him, there were at least fifty walkers inside the factory, but it was closed up tight, so all of the guys would be heading there to clean them out. 

   The factory held several presses, and if Eugene could get them up and running, Rick and Negan felt that they could work in two groups, diverting walkers out of each end of the valley to dispose of them. It sat on a dead end road, so it would be easy to direct the herd towards the entrance, and there were concrete walls surrounding the area. 

   "There's dozens of cars in the parking lot," he told Negan, " we can line them up right to the door to keep them in line."

   "Assuming Eugene can get the power on."

   Rick nodded at Negan, and the conversation continued while I fed Nora, my thoughts turning to my own day. Once the guys were gone, I planned on heading to see Sherry and help her out. With Dwight going out all day again, she could use the break. Plus, I had to talk to Michonne to see if she could assist me afterwards. I had some things of my own that I wanted to get done before Negan got back, and once again, I needed her to chip in.

   "We'll be home by dinner time," Negan said, taking their cups to the sink. "You'll be all right?"

   "Of course," I winked at him. Rick excused himself, stepping back outside, and Negan kissed Nora while she was distracted with her breakfast, placing a soft one on my cheek. "I hope today goes better."

   He smiled, touching my forehead with his, and he grabbed his/my weapons, joining Rick outside. I stood at the window for a few seconds, watching them as they made their way to the trucks, and Daryl at least nodded at him, though no one else really did. My poor guy. He was deservedly unpopular, but in time, I was sure that they would see him the way that I did. A good, flawed, smart man that was determined to do the right thing going forward.

   Less than thirty minutes later, Nora and I were standing on Sherry's doorstep, rapping softly. Michonne answered, yawning, and I stepped around her into the living room. Sherry was bleary-eyed, holding a wide-awake Adam, and she gave me a dazed look. 

   "Hand him over," I said, holding out my hands as Nora tried to climb onto the couch to get a better look. "Go get some sleep."

   "I'm fine. Really."

  "Honey, I know that look," I chuckled, "I _was_ that look, remember? Take the help when it's offered, just like I did. Dwight's going to be gone all day, and I have some stuff to do later."

   "What do you have to do?"

   I told her in detail what I had planned for Negan, and to my utter surprise, she actually smiled. Maybe she was delirious from a lack of sleep. Michonne was perched on the other couch, and she offered to watch Nora for me, earning herself an indentured servant for life. 

   Between the three of us, we came up with a plan to carry out my wishes, and I good-naturedly shoved her towards the steps. 

   "There's milk in the fridge," she said around a massive yawn, "and he just ate about an hour ago, so he should be good for a while. Wake me if you need anything."

   I waved her off, settling back with Nora next to me as Adam and I studied each other. His big eyes were looking at me like I was an alien, and I made some goofy faces, Nora joining in after watching me curiously. 

   "Baba," she said, pointing a pudgy finger at him. 

   "Isn't he cute, Nora?" I sat him more upright so that he could see her, and his eyes went immediately to her face. She was fascinated, petting his fingers clumsily. 

   Michonne excused herself to get some rest as well, and I spent the next few hours walking him around the house, singing to him, and feeding him when he wasn't dozing. I was pretty proud of myself for keeping him up for a while, and when Sherry reemerged, she looked like a different person. Her hair was washed and styled, and she was even sporting some mascara and lip gloss.

   "Hot mama," I wiggled my eyebrows, and Nora went over to her with her arms out. She swept my girl up, cuddling her as I rocked Adam back and forth. He'd just fallen asleep, and I carried him over to the bassinet by the dining room table, setting him on his side. He let out a little sigh, but he was out, his little eyelids moving back and forth. 

   Nora was ready for her nap, so I took her over to Sue's to drop her off. Thankfully, she wasn't busy, and once I explained to her why I needed her, she was more than happy to take care of my girl. It allowed me to run home to get changed so that I could go out and get what I wanted for Negan.

   True to their word, they were back before dinner, and he came in looking tired and guarded. I had a feeling that he wasn't included any more today than he was the day before, and he went straight into the bathroom, closing the door with a slam. 

   I didn't let it faze me, playing on the floor with Nora, creating a block skyrise that held a weeble family that looked a lot like ours, except much jollier. The dark-haired dad was smiling, and the weeble mom had what I supposed was a matronly outfit, a flowery dress and a headband to hold her painted red hair. Nora weeble was brown-haired with a pacifier, and real Nora flung her from the top floor, laughing when she bounced onto the ground and rolled back upright.

   "Don't get any ideas," I muttered, watching her put it back on the top floor and repeat the ill-advised jump. Negan finally emerged, freshly showered and wearing a button-down shirt and a pair of jeans, and he strolled in barefoot, plopping down on the ground next to us. Nora climbed into his lap, handing him one of her baby books, and he leaned against the couch, reading to her in a smoky voice. 

   I went in to get him some socks to wear, handing them over when there was a knock on the door. 

   Sherry was standing there, wringing her hands together. 

   "I need a huge favor," she said, rushing past me into the kitchen. Negan appeared a second later with Nora in his arms, looking between the two of us. 

   "What's going on?"

   She shot him a look, dragging me into the other room just out of earshot. It didn't seem to phase him, and he poked his head around the corner.

   "Oh, for fuck's sake," Sherry swore, clapping her hand over her mouth when she noticed Nora. "Sorry."

   "Just tell me what's going on, Sher," I said, shooting Negan a look.

   "Can you go on a run for me?"

   "Uh...what do you need?"

   She handed me a piece of paper with a medication name on it, her eyes watering. Pulling me forward, she whispered into my ear, and I nodded, feeling Negan's glare burning into my skin.

   "We'll go right now. Can Michonne watch Nora for us?"

   "She's at my house. If she can't, I can."

   "I'll be over in ten."

   "Thank you," she hugged me, wiping her eyes as she passed by Negan without looking at him. The second the door shut, I stuffed the paper into my pocket, going upstairs to pack a bag for Nora. When I came back down, he was still in the same spot, and I handed him the overnight bag.

   "Are you going to tell me what's going on?" he complained, setting it by the door. 

   "She needs a certain medication, and she doesn't want to ask Dwight. Do you mind coming with me?"

   "I'll get my shoes."

   He set Nora down, going to the closet, and I grabbed my satchel, slinging it over my shoulder. My little girl went back to her toys, grabbing her mini-me and presenting her to me. With a kiss to her cheek, I hoisted her back up, heading towards Sherry's house with Negan lagging behind. 

   Rick was sitting at the kitchen table with Michonne, who took Nora into her arms, sitting her in the high chair to eat. Apparently, they weren't doing a community meal tonight, and Dwight was cooking for their little group since everyone was staying in the main lodge. It had six bedrooms, so there was more than enough room for all of our visitors. 

   "We'll be back soon," I announced to no one in particular, and Rick stood up, offering to accompany us.

   "No need," I assured him. "I know exactly where to go."

   Hand in hand, Negan and I went out to the truck, and when we reached the gate, he hopped out to let me drive through. For once, he didn't complain that I was driving, instead sitting back and staring out the window, not even acknowledging me until I slowed the truck down to turn onto a two-lane road.

   "Where are we going?" he blinked, recognizing that we were out in the middle of nowhere. 

   "Almost there," I muttered, scanning until I found the right driveway. When he saw where we were, his mouth dropped open in surprise, and he gave me a startled look.

   "Angel, what...?"

   I cut the engine, opening the door, but he was still in his seat when I came around the other side. The sun was low in the sky, giving the side of his face an orange hue, and I waited patiently next to the truck for him to get out. His shook his head, jumping down and staring at me like he'd never seen me before. 

   Taking his hand, I led him up the four steps to the doors of the chapel, opening them carefully to make sure no one had gotten inside from earlier in the day. The place was rundown, but it still had a certain charm to it, and more importantly, there was still a crucifix above the dais.

   Michonne and I had come earlier in the day after finding it in the phone book, and we'd straightened it up the best we could, finding what felt like hundreds of candles in the storeroom, setting them around the tiny church and lighting them before we left. As a result, the space had a spicy, warm smell to it, and it was glowing brightly, the light making bouncing shadows on the wall. 

   "Would you care to walk me down the aisle?" I asked, reaching out for his hand. He swallowed hard, keeping his head forward, and we moved side by side down the center of the church, stopping at the altar, where I rummaged around in my bag, producing two rings. 

   I held them out in my palm, and he took the smaller one, a slight tremor making his lips twitch, and my pulse sped up in both nervousness and fear. There wasn't a priest to bless us, but I was doing this wholeheartedly, committing myself to Negan. 

   "I, uh, don't really know how to do this, so I'll just say a few things if you don't mind," I said in a trembling voice, my chest starting to burn. The look in his eyes was enough to take my breath away, but I didn't falter, didn't avert my gaze like I would've before. 

   I took his left hand, running my thumb along his ring finger, fighting the lump in my throat. 

   "I love you, Negan. I may have loved you long before I knew it, but it doesn't matter. What does matter is that I know it now, and I feel it down to my bones. You challenge me, you protect me, and you make me feel like I'm the most important person in the world, and I don't know what else I could ask for in a partner. You're a man who feels deeply, and I see you reflected in Nora's eyes."

   I let out a shuddering breath as I put the ring on the tip of his finger, holding it there.

   "I promise to love you until the end of my days. I vow to respect you, to honor you, and to always let you know how much you mean to me. This ring is a sign of my faithfulness, both to you and to our relationship. I'm giving myself fully to you, forever. With all of my heart."

   My vision blurred as I slid it all of the way up, thankful that it fit perfectly. His eyes were as glassy as mine, and he looked down at the gold band, closing his fingers around my hand. When he spoke, his voice sounded like broken glass, and it made my spine tingle.

   "For some reason, and I still don't understand why, you've given me everything I've ever wanted. A home, a child, the feeling that I belong. You've called me your savior, but I think that you just might be mine. Going on a road trip two years ago to search for supplies was the best decision I ever made, because I found you, and you're priceless, Marie."

   I smiled through my tears, and he wiped them away tenderly. 

   "I love you, too. I love your good heart, and I love your brave soul. You treat me like I'm worthy, and you've forgiven me when I've screwed up so badly that no one else could. Because of your faith, I know I can make a difference, but I don't care about any of that if I don't have you. So," he cleared his throat, putting the ring on my finger, "I vow to treat you like the amazing gift that you are for as long as I live. I'll love you, honor you, and cherish you, Angel. And I'll be the man that you deserve, I promise."

   My band clacked against the engagement ring, and I freed my hand from his, placing it against his cheek. He was more emotional than I was, if that's possible, and he lifted me up into his arms so that we were eye to eye. 

   Our first kiss as 'man and wife' was soft, tender, and sweet, surrounded by the memories of my past, and the hope for my future.

   "Thank you for doing this," Negan murmured into my lips, rubbing his nose against mine, and I locked my legs around his waist with a smile. 

   "I won. What can I say?"

   "Careful, wife," he warned me, starting towards the door. "I'm the man of the house, now."

   I dug my nails into the back of his neck, and he set me down on the ground, doubling back to blow out the candles. It was taking him forever, so I went along the other side, doing my share. We met back in the middle, bathed in colored light from the remains of the sunlight. Reds, blues, and violets shone on our faces, and Negan took me by the ring hand back to the truck, sticking his fingers into my front pocket for the keys. 

   Already he was bossing me around, and I good-naturedly punched him on the shoulder, even though the opened the door for me like a gentleman.

   "So I take it we don't need to go get something for Sherry?"

   "Nope. All an elaborate ruse so that we could run off and elope. They're watching Nora for the night so that we can have a proper honeymoon."

   "Nice," he purred, giving me an appraising look. "Do you still have that fancy lingerie?"

   "What are you going to wear for me?" I teased, giving the church one last look as we drove back home, still holding hands. The entire way, my ring was twisted around my finger by Negan, and he smiled happily. My devilish angel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, yes! They took the plunge...(even though they already have a kid) ((shrug))


	77. Angels Watching Over Us

  
   Negan held his mouth open, and I tossed a raspberry, mockingly cheering when he caught it. It was the fourth try, and it was the first one he'd successfully nabbed. Pushing it between pearly whites, he grinned at me and I leaned forward, kissing him and taking half of it. 

   We were taking a snack break, recharging before resuming our one night honeymoon. It was odd to see the wedding band on his finger, because he'd never worn one at the Sanctuary, even with a plethora of wives. 

   "You keep staring at it like it's going to crawl off of my finger and disappear," he said, giving me a snarky look.

   "And _you_ have raspberry seeds between your teeth," I shot back, enjoying when the smile faded and he ran his tongue over his front teeth. Naked, he got up without a care, heading to the bathroom, and I watched in open appreciation as his backside bounced up and down with each step. 

   While he cleaned his mouth, I went back into the bedroom, putting the covers back on the mattress. They'd been tossed to the ground during our first and second go around. It was getting cooler, though, and I pulled them up to my neck, shutting my eyes until a very large man dive bombed me, shaking the heck out of the mattress. I let out a huff of breath, and he nuzzled my neck.

   "Are you going to sleep?"

   "No, I'm cold."

   "I turned the heat back on, but let me warm you up," he said, lowering the sheet and getting underneath, going all of the way down to my waist. With one hand, he threw the covers back over his head so that I could only see a lump on top of me. 

   "What are you doing, Negan?" I asked, feeling warm breath on my belly. 

   "Just go with it, Angel. Keep the sheet up. I want you to just feel it."

   His stubble was making my stomach clench, and I shut my eyes again as his tongue lapped at my abdomen, getting lower. It was foreign, but not uncomfortable, and my hands clenched the sheet when he spread my legs out, getting down at the bottom of the bed. 

   "Oh," I moaned, the anticipation tingling as he dragged his face between my thighs, growling lowly. As soon as his mouth touched my core, my entire body went flush with heat, the lapping of his tongue like a gentle caress. Every time I thought that I couldn't enjoy this man anymore, he did something else to unlock another part of me, and I let myself go, melting into his touch. 

   Fingers around my thighs, sucking against my sensitive spots, I was enthralled with every touch, and I called his name with abandon when I reached peak pleasure, arching up like I was having a seizure. If every night was going to be like this, I'd gladly marry him again.

   When he re-emerged, he was red-faced and very proud of himself, kissing his way back up my body, making a leisurely stop at my chest. I smoothed his hair back down, making him presentable, and he rolled onto his back, wiggling his eyebrows.

   "What?" I asked, giving him a side-eyed look. 

   "Isn't it my turn?"

   "I didn't realize this was a 'quid pro quo' situation," I told him, resting my chin on his shoulder. "I thought you were doing it out of the kindness of your heart."

   "I don't have a heart, remember? Get going."

   "Jerk," I bit him, but I positioned myself on top of him. He put his hands behind his head with a cocky grin, a most unbecoming look on him, and I rolled my eyes. Damn him and his handsomeness. I busied myself with his body, not nearly as put out as I let him think. In truth, any time I could run my fingers through that body hair of his, I was a happy camper, and he put the sheet over my head, enveloping me with his warm smell. 

   Teasing him, I kissed and licked everything but what he wanted me to until he thrust his hips into my face, smacking me with his penis. I pinched his thigh, but it only seemed to arouse him even more, and I sucked the tip into my mouth, tonguing the salty fluid in a swirling motion. Negan moaned, palming the back of my head, and I let him push himself all of the way in, humming to myself. 

   "God _damn_ , Angel."

   He set the pace, and I bobbed my head up and down, getting warm all over both from the pure gratification of what I was doing and also the fact that I wasn't getting any fresh air. Musky and salty, he exploded in my mouth minutes later, burying my nose in his pelvis with his grip as I tried to swallow everything that he gave me. When he released me, I yanked the sheet off of my head, laying my face on his thigh. 

   "It's too stuffy under there," I grumbled, letting him heft me up so that I was laying on top of him. 

   "That's because I'm a smoking hot piece of ass," he rumbled, ignoring my narrowed eyes. 

   "That you are," I allowed, resting my cheek on his sweaty chest. "Do you have to go tomorrow?"

   "Baby, I want to go. We have a lot to do to get ready for this herd, and I need to make sure that you and Nora are safe."

   "I know."

   He drew little swirly patterns on my bare back, giving me goosebumps, and I scooted myself up so that my nose was just under his ear. There was no way he'd ever sit something like this out, but I could dream, couldn't I?

   We settled into sleep, and I was out until approximately four in the morning when I felt Negan rubbing his erection against the back of my body. I hummed quietly, and his hands slid to my stomach, massaging the spot. 

   The sex was slow and languid, all gentle movements and soft kisses, and it was tempting to try to hold him here with me, to tie him to the bed so that he couldn't go, and he panted into my mouth when he came, circling his hips deliciously, a look of absolute satisfaction on his face. 

   "You're so fucking _good_ , Angel. All of you."

   "So are you, Negan."

   His eyes snapped open in surprise, and I smiled up at him, never more sure of anything in my life. I believed it unwaveringly, even if he didn't. The armor that he used to protect himself started to form, and he regressed slightly. 

   "I never had any complaints before."

   "That's not what I meant and you know it," I said mildly, knowing that he was trying to goad me into a reaction. 

   "I know," he eased himself out of me, keeping his weight on my body. "I'm sorry. You know I'm an asshole."

   He played with the ends of my hair, twirling them around his fingers, but he wouldn't meet my eyes. I waited, anyway. I'd learned considerable patience when dealing with Negan, and he was projecting his nerves onto me because he was going to be surrounded by people that didn't like him. 

   "I'm sorry," he repeated, finally looking at me fully. There were creases around his eyes that weren't due to sleeping, and I brushed them lightly, stopping only when he turned his head to kiss my palm. "Half of these fuckers have no idea what we're walking into and the other half..."

   "Well, you do know what you're doing, so don't be afraid to speak up."

   "Are they even going to listen to me?" 

   "Rick will. Daryl will. You have them backing you up, and that's good. But honestly, all I care about is that you come back to me with everything intact," I said, bringing my lips to his. "We have a future to think about, and I just got you back."

   "I'm coming back, Marie. I promise."

   Twenty minutes after leaving the bed, I walked with him towards the gates with my arm around his waist, reluctantly letting go when Rick motioned towards him. He joined the group that was loading up supplies and weapons, and I met Michonne at the door to get Nora so that she could say goodbye. 

   "We'll be back soon," Rick said, kissing Michonne. Debbie and Daryl hugged discreetly by his vehicle, and Negan hugged Nora before winking at me. We'd already said our goodbyes at the house, and he walked towards Daryl's red truck, climbing into the passenger's side. 

  _We'll be back soon._

   The reality of the situation was that there was no timetable. They would be gone as long as it took to see it through, and I felt a lump in my throat as I watched them leave, feeling unsettled. Out there, they were in danger, all of them, no matter what precautions they took. Walkers were both predictable and unstable, and the situation could change on a dime.   
All I could do now was pray and keep Nora safe, and that’s what I vowed to do. Once they were out of sight, I carried her to Sherry’s house to help her with Adam. Since all of the men were with Rick and Negan, it fell on the rest of us to do the daily chores. 

   The other communities were also short on help, too, since Ezekiel and Jesus had called in for reinforcements. Negan had mentioned it on our way back from the chapel, and I was mildly relieved that they weren’t going to attempt such a big job with just the dozen or so people that had gone to the two sites to survey them. 

   Sue and Debbie went to work in the garden, and once Adam was down for a mid-morning nap, Michonne and I took Nora to the barn to clean the stalls and feed the animals. She was still quiet, and I didn’t want to press her, but I offered her my listening services, free of charge. 

   “I’m fine,” she insisted, scooping out horse poo from George’s stall. “Rick’s just pressuring me to go back home and stay with Judith.” 

   “He’s worried about you, I’m sure,” I murmured, keeping an eye on Nora as she tried to climb up on Dwight’s chair. “If something goes wrong, we’re close to ground zero.” 

   “All the more reason for me to stay. We can’t afford to let this herd get out of hand. There’s no telling what would happen if they decimated this place and kept going east.” 

   “No offense,” I smiled, “but us gals are kind of outnumbered. The only thing we’d be able to do is pack up and flee.” 

   “I know,” Michonne admitted, leaning against the stall. “I just don’t want Rick treating me with kid gloves. I’ve survived this long. This is more about Lori.” 

   “Who?” 

   “Judith’s mom,” she explained. “She died delivering her when they were living at a prison in Georgia. They’d been attacked by walkers, and she didn’t live through it.” 

   “Oh, wow. I’m so sorry.” 

   “It happened right before I found our group, and he was…disturbed for a while. So, I get it. But I’m not going to do anything to endanger this baby, and I resent that he treats me like I’ve never done this before.” 

   “You know how men are,” I chuckled, trying to ease what was obviously a touchy situation for her. “They underestimate us all the time. You’ll make him see the light. If anyone is built to survive this crap, it’s you.” 

   It worked, and she smiled, at least briefly. 

   Nora helped to toss in the hay and feed, and when we were done, the three of us went back to the main house where I got busy fixing lunch. Debbie and Sue showed back up just as we were putting the food on the table, and they ate quietly as Sherry nursed the baby. 

   The rest of the day was uneventful, and I put Nora to bed later than usual since I had the opportunity to talk to Negan on the radio. He sounded exhausted, though he tried to remain upbeat. They’d gotten the rock grinders to work, and there were two that were set up in the center of the paving plant. At first light, they were going to start moving all vehicles in the area onto the road as a wall and a guide to direct their share of the herd to the machines. 

   Since the property was used to cull materials for paving, they’d been able to get the grinders in a spot where the ground dropped off into a man-made quarry. All they had to do was lead the walkers to the dropoff and voila, dead people sludge would be the result. Those were Negan’s words, not mine. 

   Strange how such a short time back with him made me lonely that night, and I slept on his side of the bed, breathing in the smell from his pillow. It was comforting, and he flitted in and out of my dreams that night. 

   

   Day two was much the same, just a quiet day spent with the women in my life and doing perfunctory chores around the property, including some laundry that was way overdue to be washed. Though we had washers that worked, I did them by hand, choosing not to waste any extra water. I had no such problem with the dryer, and Nora helped me to sort and fold our things. Negan hadn’t been at Shadow Mountain more and a couple days, so I took it upon myself to put all of his personals away, not that he had many. It was something that we’d have to rectify when he came back. This was his home now, and he needed to restock his things. He shouldn’t have to live with just a few pairs of shirts and pants that he’d pilfered from Alexandria. 

   I had two dressers in the downstairs room, and I reorganized them so that he had one of his own, placing his meager belongings into them and setting his grooming supplies on top along with a picture of Nora and I that was taken when she was just six months old. I was still a little chubby in the picture, and Sherry had snapped it when I was unaware. Nora was cradled on my chest and I was kissing the top of her head with a soft smile. I’d always hated having my picture taken, but even I couldn’t complain about this one. There was too much love evident on my face, and my girl looked like the spitting image of Negan in her sleep. 

   “Dada?” Nora asked for the fifteenth time, and I plopped her on my bed, curling up next to her. 

   “Dada had to go on a trip,” I told her, letting her play with my hair. “He’ll be home soon.” 

   “No Dada?” 

   “Not tonight, sweet pea,” the sigh left my lips as she frowned at me. “Maybe tomorrow. Hopefully, he’ll call again, though.” 

   He did call, once it got dark, and I skittered out of Sherry’s kitchen to talk to him privately, holding Nora on my hip. 

   “Hey, Angel,” he said in a barely there voice. “How are my girls?” 

   “We’re fine.” The last thing he needed was to worry about us, and Nora whined when she heard his voice. “Nora’s here if you want to say something.” 

   "Hey, princess," he said, sounding as enthusiastic as he could. "Dada misses you.

   "Dada?" She leaned forward, pressing her wet lips on the speaker, breathing loudly.

   I let go of the button and he laughed tiredly. 

   "Yes, it's Dada. I'll be home soon."

   "How's it looking?" I asked when Nora took a break from babbling.

   "We've got everything ready to go and we're going to start the extraction at dawn. I won't be accessible, Angel, but I'll call as soon as I can. I gotta go," he grumbled, "Daryl wants to talk to the blonde."

   "I love you," I said, carrying the radio back into the living room and handing it to Debbie. 

   "I love you, too."

   She mimicked me, heading into the kitchen where it was quieter, and I set Nora on the couch, taking Adam for a few minutes so that Sherry could get his bottles ready for the night. While she was doing that, Michonne talked to Rick on the other radio, assuring him that she was feeling fine and that everything was running smoothly during his absence. 

   That night, I let Nora sleep with me, and she cuddled with both a small elephant and one of Negan's shirts, curling up on her side next to me. She was restless and so was I, worrying about the next day, even though I knew that Negan was capable. It was the others that I was worried about. What if they didn't listen to him? What if one of them tried to be a hero?

 

   Day three started with me feeling a sense of dread as soon as I opened my eyes. I was unsettled, and Nora could pick up on my mood, making her particularly clingy that morning. I did the best that I could, but the heaviness in the pit of my stomach was growing with each minute, each hour that passed until I could no longer sit in my house. I needed to get out and do...something.

   Sue was visiting with Sherry, and I asked her if she'd be willing to watch Nora for a while so that I could take Sable and check the perimeter. There was a nagging feeling at the base of my skull, a deep-seated uneasiness that I was supposed to be somewhere else.

   "I'll go with you," Michonne offered, getting to her feet and stretching with a groan. "I can't stand just sitting around, either."

   We were waved off by Sue and Sherry, and the two of us went to the barn, saddling up George and Sable. 

   "Do you think they're doing okay?" I asked as we walked on the east side of the property, checking the traps.

   "They'll be fine," she said, but less confidently than I would've liked. "I believe in Rick."

   It didn't change the fact that it felt like a black cloud was following me around, but I led her towards the meadow after we cleared the other side of the property, just because I couldn't stand to go back to the house to wait. 

   "Wow, this is beautiful," Michonne said, staring up at the mountain as we came into the clearing. 

   "Yeah, it's one of my favorite spots." I pointed out my berry bushes, leading Sable past them towards the center of the grass, where she dipped her head to feed. 

   I was just about ready to dismount when I saw three walkers stumbling through the overgrowth on the far end, and I pointed it out to Michonne. She pulled out her katana and I readied my scythe, both of us kicking our horses at the same time.

   We got about ten yards away when the middle walker stumbled, surprising me and frightening Sable, and she did something she'd never done before, rearing up and throwing me from my saddle.

   I landed on my back, smacking my head on the hard ground and getting the wind knocked out of me. It was like one of those cartoons when one of them gets smacked silly, my vision pinging to double before slowly tunneling to normal. 

   "Marie!"

   Too dazed to answer, I stared up at the sky with only one thought, and it was that Negan was going to be mad.

   While I evaluated my life choices dully, she jumped down from her horse, and I heard the tinny, far away sounds of her chopping the heads off of the walkers before appearing in my line of sight.

   "Oh my God, are you all right?" she asked, placing her hand on my forehead. 

   "I-I think so." It was raspy as I attempted to take a shallow breath, my lungs aching with pain. Actually, everything ached with pain, and I shut my eyes to fight off a wave of nausea. 

   "Lay here for a minute until you think you can sit up," she said, kneeling down, looking at me nervously.

   "I'll be fine," I wheezed, my eyes watering. Oh, Negan had enough to worry about without coming back to find out I had a freaking concussion. 

   I sat up ten minutes later, feeling woozy and with a slamming headache, watching my idiot horse gallop around the edge of the meadow. Immediately, I felt guilty. It wasn't her fault, it was mine. Sable had always been sensitive to my moods, and she'd been twitchy for the whole ride because I was out of sorts. 

   While I sat there, cradling my head in my hands, Michonne probed the back of my skull, announcing that I had a large goose egg. She was anxious to get me back where she could keep an eye on me, and quite frankly, I didn't want to sit on the hard ground anymore. Even my skin hurt, and I let her help me to my feet, swaying lightly as she whistled for the horses.  
Sable came trotting over to me, nudging me with her nose, and I swatted her away, irritated. Horses couldn't make facial expressions, but I swear that she looked hurt, and I reached my hand out, letting her nibble at my fingers. 

   "Let me help you up," Michonne said, boosting me so that I could climb up. It was taxing, for some reason, and my hands were shaking as I held the reins, following behind George at a snail's pace. 

   It took us a while to get back, and Michonne held onto my scythe, guiding both of our horses into the barn. Gracelessly, I slid to the ground, bracing myself against Sable's side.   
Nora was asleep, thank the Lord, and I collapsed onto Sherry's couch, covering my eyes with my hand. My head was throbbing, my back was aching, and I was pretty sure I cracked my tailbone. 

   Aspirin was dropped into my other palm, and I took it without opening my eyes, holding out the glass. 

   Michonne and Sherry kept me awake for hours, afraid that I would fall into a coma if I went to sleep, and when I'd been deemed not an immediate death risk, I was allowed to go home to rest, but Nora wasn't. Michonne wanted to keep her at the main house so that I could rest, and secretly, I thought she was afraid something would happen. 

   My limbs were sore along with my head, and I took a lukewarm shower, crawling onto the bed, feeling like my head would never stop throbbing. Before I fell asleep, I took some more aspirin and shut my eyes, praying that Negan would be home soon. The entire day, my thoughts drifted towards him, even though my own pain and the lingering worry that something went wrong never quite disappeared.

   At least not until I dreamt of a diner and a waitress with kind eyes that told me Negan was going to be fine, and I smiled in my sleep. The name on her tag was Lucille.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will be from Negan's POV, and we'll see if Lucille is right...


	78. Idle Hands Do the Devil's Work

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We see a more subdued Negan during this chapter...

  
   "Get the fuck away from there!"

   I lost my shit the third time this redshirt motherfucker stood at the edge of the dropoff, staring down like he was high on acid.

   The dopey fuck jumped, scuttling back, and I yanked his arm, making him stumble. 

   "How many fucking times are you going to stand on the edge where the ground could give way? Fucking go help Kale with the last car," I ordered, staring him down as he walked away with his shoulders slumped. I couldn't be bothered to learn his name because I wasn't sure he was even going to survive the next twenty-four hours.

   There were some good people helping our group, and some really stupid ones, and they were the ones that could end up getting us all killed.

   Daryl had that fucking sour look on his face as I walked back over, and he handed me a bottle of water.

   "Just can't stop bein' a prick, can ya?"

   "Hey, if you want to add his corpse to the pile we're planning on tossing over that ledge, be my fucking guest, but the kid's a moron. I have a life to get back to."

   "We all do."

   "Then maybe they should start acting like it," I shrugged, sucking down the lukewarm liquid. 

   Two fucking days busting our asses, and I was ready to drop. I was getting way too old for this shit. We worked from dark to dark to clear out the factory and set up the cars that led through the fence and to the quarry. Unlike the stamping plant, this place only had chain-link fences, so we bolstered them with trucks and equipment over thirty feet on either side of the entrance. 

   My back was aching and my muscles were like jelly, but after finishing the water, I went back over to the grinder, double checking the belt to make sure it was running smoothly. It wasn't the first time I'd followed up on it, but what can I say? I'm one of those bastards that can't trust others to do anything. 

   When it got too dark to see, I called to the others to cut out for the night. Tomorrow was going to be seven shades of hell, and if we didn't get any rest, it could get sloppy. 

   I didn't mean to take charge. I really didn't, but it comes out naturally, especially when faced with raging incompetence. Two years out of the game and the work ethic went down the crapper around town. Other than Daryl and Dwight, everyone else needed their goddamned hands held or told what to do explicitly. 

   I admit that it felt good to order people around again, and I tried not to let it go to my head. Telling myself that it was for the right reasons, I stepped into the role like I used to slide on my leather jacket. Easily and with confidence. The other two never contradicted me, which meant that they didn't feel I was a threat, and that my instincts were right. 

   The other trucks took off, heading just down the road to a row of houses that were abandoned. Everyone else was going to crash there and be back before dawn. Daryl and I volunteered to spend the night at the plant to keep watch. There had been a steady stream of stragglers showing up since we'd arrived, and I didn't want to come back in the morning to find a mini-herd wandering around.

   Daryl tossed me the radio and I called in, reaching Michonne. She grabbed Marie for me, and I put as much ease into my voice as I could.

   "Hey, Angel. How are my girls?"

   "We're fine," she said, trying to sound serene. I knew she was worried. She didn't realize that when she was, a fine tremor took over her voice, and it was audible, even through the shitty connection. "Nora's here if you want to say something."

   "Hi, princess. Dada misses you."

   My girl. She talked and breathed through the radio, and I felt my body relax, even though Daryl was staring at me like I was a goddamned attraction at the zoo. When Marie finally got back on the phone, I assured her that we were almost done, handing the radio to my bunkmate. 

   Unlike me, he was shy enough to go behind the truck, grumbling at his blonde girl. She was cute, I guess, and I idly wondered if she was that blonde all over. While he was in the throes of a new relationship, I was getting settled, something I didn't think I would ever be. For the first time in my life, I wasn't looking for the bigger, better deal. I was happy with my Angel, and I didn't feel the need to water any other gardens. I, the guy with five fucking wives at one point was now a real husband and father. 

   Since Daryl was still mooning, I took the opportunity to grab the back seat of the truck, cracking the window and propping my feet up against the door. Come hell or high water, we were finishing this tomorrow, and I was going home. I didn't want to miss out on any more time with Nora. Every day she was growing and changing, and I wanted to be a part of that. I'd already taught her her very first swear word, and she knew that she was a 'big girl'. Of all the kids I'd taught over the years, Nora made me feel the most fulfilled, and I was going to make sure she never followed in my footsteps. I'd seen too much of myself in her, and she was better fucking served to take on more of her mother's traits.

   The redneck glared at me in the dark, and I gave him a shitty grin, pointing to the front seat. He threw himself down, tossing the radio on the dash, and we laid in silence for about ten minutes.

   "Marie's a good girl. You know she deserves better than you, right?"

   I rolled my eyes, not bothering to answer. I had a feeling that I'd be hearing that for the rest of my life, especially if this greasy asshole was planning on staying in the cabins. 

   "And Nora's a sweetheart."

   "I know, dickhead. But she's my wife and Nora's my daughter, so you'd better get used to it. I'm not going anywhere."

   He gave me the middle finger over the seat, and I gave one back. Daryl may never like me, but I was like a fungus. I would grow on him eventually. The kid was smart but rash, and I saw potential there.

   I set the little alarm that we'd brought to wake us at five, and I rolled onto my side to try to sleep. It'd been a long time since I'd slept in a car, not since the beginning, and it was bringing back bad memories. The days following the hospital were some of the worst of my life. I'd lost Lucille, the world was falling apart, and I had no idea what I was going to do to survive. I had nothing, and after months of living from minute to minute, I'd vowed to myself that I'd never be in that shape again. I was a survivor, and no dead fuck or living parasite was going to have me on my knees in a clearing, barking out orders and taking my shit. 

   Now, though, I was focused not on my stuff, but on my girls. No one was going to take anything from them, and it started here. Eliminate the threat, and bolster the area around the houses. Dwight had found a nice place, a safe place, but it could always be safer. I wasn't thinking walkers around the place on spikes or anything, but there were improvements to be made. 

   I finally drifted off, Lucille and Marie mingling in my dreams. One was beautiful, looking at me lovingly. The other was beautiful, giving me an approving smile. It was enough to put me in a decent mood when I woke up to the alarm, sitting up and stretching. 

   A half dozen walkers were wandering just outside the gates, and I grabbed one of the metal poles that we'd set up by the links, whistling to get their attention. They shuffled forwards, bouncing off of the barricade, and with precise movements, I shoved the pole through the fence, impaling them one by one. Six down, about a thousand to go.  
I could see the others up the road, and I went back to the truck, taking out the radio and turning it to the other channel.

   "Rick, you there?"

   He answered back sounding as tired as I felt. 

   "I'm here. We're getting ready to head over to the west side of the valley."

   "Let me know when you're in place, and we'll start."

   "Yep."

   I tossed it back onto the seat, clapping my hands together to round up the stragglers. Dwight and Daryl stood alongside me as the group formed a loose circle, each of them armed to the teeth with weapons.

   "All right, does everyone remember their jobs?" Dwight asked, looking from guy to guy, and each one nodded, even redshirt. "Darren and Ellis are going to stay here and keep an eye on things. The rest of you are following us and peeling off at the checkpoints. Everyone needs to keep their radios on and maintain contact."

   "Rick and I will be coordinating the explosions to catch the walkers attention, and the procession will be imminent. Those of you along the checkpoints need to let us know of any potential issues and stay sharp. Anything could distract this many of them, and we need to be ready to get them back in line. It'll probably take a good three hours or so to get back here, and we'll send up more flares when we get close," I said, glancing at Daryl.

   "Ya need to fire up the machines as soon as we get close because we're gonna be comin' through the gates with the trucks, backin' them to the edge. The barriers there," he pointed, "and there need to be put back in place after."

   "We got it," Kale said, standing up straight. Everyone else murmured, and I held out my hand for the keys, which Daryl tossed without looking. 

   It felt like the good old days before everything got out of hand when I got behind the wheel, seeing everyone else set off on their assignments. Daryl checked the explosives in the bed before getting in next to me, and Dwight took the red pickup.

   Our motley little caravan drove out of the plant, moving at a turtle's fucking pace, and Daryl lit up a cancer stick, blowing it around the cab. I held out my hand for one, and he scoffed. 

   "Ya don't smoke," he muttered, handing me one anyway.

   "I used to, years ago, back when I'd sneak out to the bar," I told him, inhaling the smoke deep into my lungs, burning them nicely. "Oh, fuck yeah," I exhaled, the white plumes flying out of the window in one long streak. "I need to find some cigars. They'd go nicely with some scotch."

   The further we went down the road, the more trucks would turn off to their checkpoints until it was just Dwight and I, and we pulled off just before the curve that led to the valley.

   Backing up, I turned us around so that we could just get in and go when the avalanche of walkers started to move. 

   Daryl got out, meeting Dwight at the bed, and I called to Rick again to see if he was set up on the other end. It was fucking loud, the combined moaning of such a huge herd echoing off of the walls around them making it hard to hear my own thoughts.

   "Rick, we're ready when you are," I said, holding the radio to my ear. 

   "We're just pulling up. Give me a second to get the dynamite out. I'll let you know."

   Dwight handed me a flare gun, hugging the curve of the road and stabbing a few that were wandering around aimlessly away from the others. It was fucking weird how closely they were grouped together, but with the narrow entrance from the rockslide, it was better for us that they'd only be able to stream out a few at a time. 

   "Okay," Rick announced, sounding out of breath. "Light it up."

   I signaled Dwight, who lit the first one, tossing it as close to the group as he could, backing up several paces. There was a distant boom from far away, followed by a loud ass explosion that made the ground tremble. Scarface threw another one and then took off at a run back towards us. While he did, I got back behind the wheel, and Daryl jumped up into the bed, holding onto the roof with a gun poised. 

   It was fucking fascinating to see them stumbling towards us, a slow-moving wall of rotted limbs and limping gaits, and I watched it in the rearview mirror, entranced until Daryl pounded on the top of the truck, shaking me from my stupor. They were close enough to see us, and I let Dwight pull out first, following behind him at a crawl. 

   Daryl fired out a flare every quarter of a mile until we approached the first checkpoint, and there was another detonation along the road. So far, so good. The herd was slow and steady, reaching out for anything edible, and we passed by a second station, repeating the drill. 

   Less than a hundred walkers tried to veer off, and the other guys actually managed to take them down. Not sure why it surprised me, but even a blind squirrel finds a nut once in a while.

   "Darren," I shouted into the radio, "we're less than half a mile. Fire up the grinders."

   "You got it," he replied, and I switched frequencies again.

   "Rick, you still alive?"

   He didn't answer and I forgot about him when Daryl slid open the back window, shouting at me to hurry the fuck up. The walkers were gaining on us, and once the barriers were around us, curving in from the road, I stepped on the gas, weaving through the openings that were left for the trucks to get through. 

   As soon as I parked, Daryl jumped down, climbing the ladder to the top of the closest grinder, stepping out on the ledge that sat next to the metal wheels. He wanted to be the bait, and I was fine with that. Not that I wanted him to die, but I knew he could handle himself up there. 

   While he was up there looking out over the grounds, I helped put the blockades back up, and Kale called in.

   "We're following about a mile behind, taking out the wanderers. Let us know when they're all inside and we'll use the trucks to block the entrance."

   "Yep."

   The first walkers came stumbling in about a half hour later, and I hauled my fat ass up to the other grinder, facing Daryl. We'd lined them up together so that they were touching, and the other guys hid behind the barriers, ducking out of sight so as not to distract them. 

   I shot one of the flare guns, grinning when it hit one of the walkers in the eye. It kept moving, but with one glowing socket.

   "Heh. Looks like the Terminator."

   A corpse with half of its face chewed off tripped onto the belt, and it flipped up and right into the grinder, its guttural cries stopping when it squished and crunched between the solid metal wheels, leaving a greasy red stain.

   Fucking. Gnarly.

   It was like a disgusting food belt, as more followed behind it, and I kicked at one that got caught on the edge, causing a pileup. Daryl had a metal rod, and he pushed aside a few shirts that ended up snagged, almost stopping the rotation of his grinder. 

   Everything went like I thought it would until one of the concrete barricades cracked in half, diverting the attention of a large swarm.

   Daryl fired his gun to try to distract them, but it was too late. One of the Kingdom guys was ripped apart in seconds, and I screamed at Dwight to run. He dove into his truck and I tossed the radio to Daryl. 

   "Shut the entrance! Walkers breached! Fire now!"

   The screech of tires battled with the growls of the dead, and I started grabbing arms, shoulders, anything I could, flinging them either into the machine or over the cliff, feeling a rush of adrenaline as I kept one eye on what I was doing and the other on Dwight's truck. There were still too many to even think about trying to climb down, and Daryl threw himself down to the grated platform, shooting at the ones that surrounded the little red truck, banging and slapping on it so much that it was rocking back and forth.

   "I'm out. Toss me your gun," Daryl shouted, back on his feet, and I looped it over grey skin and teeth. He caught it with the tips of his fingers at the same time that the cavalry showed up, machine guns blazing. It was eerily beautiful to see the bodies fall, a wave of death slicing through the interlopers, and I turned my attention to the assembly line that was slowing down. They were no longer piled together like sardines, and I thought that we might be able to get out of this losing only one guy. 

   When the last deader rolled into the grinder, I dropped to my ass, panting like I'd just run a marathon, looking up at the sky. 

   "Ya still alive, old man?"

   I turned my head to see the redneck in the same position I was, covered in blood and sweat. 

   "Feel like I could do this all over again, hick."

   His lip curled up as the machines cut out, allowing a silence so deafening that I thought I'd lost my hearing. It took more effort than I was proud of, but I got to my feet, climbing back down with shaking muscles. I stepped through the graveyard of corpses, towards Dwight. 

   He was stabbing a walker that was still moving, even though it only had half a body. Everyone else was milling through the remains, checking to make sure no more were missed, and I leaned against the truck, watching Daryl as he tried to reach Rick.

   "Rick, ya there?"

   Radio silence. Hopefully, the prick was alive. 

   "We gotta retrace our route and make sure we didn't miss any," Dwight said, sticking his knife into his belt. "Go through the valley and see if they're in trouble."

   "Let's get the fuck out of here, then."

   I had no desire to stick around this area. It fucking stunk, though we'd probably come back at some point. There were good raw materials here, and we'd be able to use it to repair the roads between communities. 

   Daryl was already in the driver's seat when I managed to drag myself to the truck and I gave him the keys, resting my feet on the dash. The tires squished through viscera, and I shut my eyes, covering them with my hand. 

   The truck slammed to a stop, and I jolted up, smacking my head on the ceiling. I'd fallen asleep, and I had that vague feeling like I'd been tossed into water or something, completely out of it.

   "Can ya be bothered to help out?" Daryl snarked,   
  
   "Suppose so."

   We were already in the valley, and there were still some walkers milling around. I followed his lead, and we stuck together so that we didn't get surrounded, Dwight showing up just as we caught a gap. They still hadn't gotten ahold of anyone at the stamping plant, and Daryl jogged back to the truck to pick us up. 

   I came up with the brilliant plan to just drive slowly the rest of the way and have the other two ride in the back, killing any walkers that remained, ordering the others to do the same. That way we could keep moving and find out what the fuck was going on with Rick.

   Color me fucking impressed when we actually rolled up on the plant and they were walking out looking like shiny, happy people. 

   "You assholes remember that you had a radio on you?" I called out, catching their attention. "We thought that you were dead."

   Daryl let out a huff, and I think he actually agreed with me, prompting me to look around for the four horsemen, sure they were galloping towards us. 

   Rick unclipped the radio from his belt like a geek, pressing the button as he approached.

   "We're all good here," he said, the sound blaring through the one in Daryl's hand. "Sorry."

   "We lost Darren," Daryl said when they got close enough, and the king's face dropped. "One of the barriers collapsed and he got surrounded."

   I felt bad for the guy until he started one of his goddamned soliloquies about the fragility of life, and I rolled my eyes so hard that I sprained the right one. 

   "Listen," I interrupted, earning a patented 'Rick glare', "I don't mean to be insensitive, but it's dark out and we've been gone for three days. I just want to get home and check on my girls."

   Ezekiel bowed mockingly to me, but I didn't give a fuck. I was worn the fuck out and I wanted to lay in a bed. My bed. 

   Over this shit: population me.

   To my everlasting surprise, Dwight agreed with me.

   "We can rehash everything tomorrow, but I have a newborn at home and if we're reasonably sure that we got most, if not all of them, we're successful. Warner and I can come back and do a sweep."

   Praise the Lord and pass the ammunition, because Rick nodded, and I left them behind in a cloud of dust, crawling into the backseat and collapsing on my stomach. A shower and a cuddle with my Angel were the only things I wanted to think about, not the gallons of walker goo that were laying at the bottom of the cliff, and certainly not the kid that got torn apart. 

   "Am I your fucking chauffeur now?" Daryl growled, slamming the door. 

   "Kudos to you for knowing the word 'chauffeur'."

   "Fuck you."

   "Just drive, man. You know you want to be balls deep in the blonde."

   "I honest to God don't get what Marie sees in you," he muttered.

   "A handsome, charming fuck. It's plain as day."

   He might've said something else, but I was out as soon as the engine started rumbling, waking up only when the light in the cab came on. Dwight pulled in right after us, and the two of them split off with tired waves in my general direction. A sign of my immaturity where they were concerned was that I didn't even feel bad that they drove while I slept. Underneath that, was relief that they were okay. It was promptly forgotten the second I walked into the house, smelling the clean smell of potpourri that Marie had in bowls everywhere. 

   It felt like I'd been gone for weeks, and I'd only been here for two days. The living room was dark, and I couldn't hear the baby monitor on. In fact, the entire house was silent, so I snuck into the bathroom, doing my best not to wake up Marie, taking a long, leisurely shower. I even shaved my face, brushed my teeth twice, and slipped on a pair of boxers.

   When I opened the bedroom door, she was lying there with the curtains open, her form bathed in moonlight. Marie was on her side facing the wall, and I crept in quietly so that I didn't wake her. Since the monitor really wasn't on, I knew that Nora wasn't here, and my overloaded brain wondered why before saying 'fuck it'. I'd find out tomorrow.

   Snuggling under the covers, I rolled next to my Angel, kissing the back of her head. A very large bump on the back of her head.

  _What the fuck happened while I was gone?_


	79. Acts 27:23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "For this very night an angel of the God to whom I belong and whom I serve stood before me."

  
_I pushed the door open to the diner, immediately greeted by the smell of cooking meat, and my mouth watered automatically. The place was all shiny chrome and red leather, and I'd eaten here many times._

_She was sitting in the next to the last booth, watching me with a smile. I waved to her, passing by two older ladies, throwing myself down onto the seat, enjoying the pleasant squeak as I slid the to middle._

_"Sorry I'm late," I breathed as she continued to smile, though her eyes were glassy._

_"You're not late, sweetheart," she assured me. "You're early. Earlier than I thought."_

_"Well, I can't stay. I have a theology class in an hour."_

_A pretty waitress came over, setting a drink on the table, and I thanked her without looking up, taking a sip. Vanilla Coke with crushed ice. Why did it taste so good? Fizzy bubbles licked at my throat and I sucked down a huge gulp._

_While I was engrossed with my pop, the food bell rang, and I glanced up to see an older man setting a plate on the counter. He was watching me, gentle-faced and with a tilted_ head, _like he was waiting for something. I smiled, trying to remember if I'd seen him in here before, but my mother cleared her throat, recapturing my attention._

_"Sweetheart?"_

_"Yeah, mom?"_

_"Do you know why you're here?"_

_"We were supposed to meet for lunch," I said, swirling my drink. "We always meet on Wednesdays."_

_"Here's your burger," the waitress said, setting it down. This time, I met her eyes, and she, too, was smiling sadly. Her nametag said 'Lucille', and it sparked something in my brain, a vague memory that I couldn't pin down._

_The second she walked away, it evaporated, and I dug into my burger, forgetting even that my mother was sitting across from me. It was so pungent that when I took the first bite, juice dripped down my chin, and I let out a moan. It felt like years since I'd had one, even though I came here all of the time. Burgers helped me study better, and I was intent on becoming a nun. I'd started making plans for my aspirancy, and I was going to visit a little church named St. Patrick's at the close of the semester._

_I finished the burger in record time, wiping my mouth as my mother sat as still as a statue, watching me._

_Sorry," I apologized. "I feel like it's been forever since I had a burger that good."_

_"It has," she agreed, and the man behind her laughed loudly. He was balding, wearing a checkered shirt, and again, something about the back of his head looked familiar. Deja vu._

_Lucille the waitress came back, asking if I needed anything else, and I handed her my glass, which I'd drained. She disappeared and my mom reached out, patting my hand._

_"Honey, I know you're confused, but it's going to be all right."_

_"Mom, I have to go. I have class."_

_"No, you don't. You're done."_

_The waitress set down another drink, patting my hand, and I looked down to see a diamond ring and a wedding band on my finger. It wasn't there before, and my heart started to race. Where did it come from?_

_"He's going to get through this, I promise," Lucille said, bending down so that we were face to face. "He will."_

_"Who?"_

_"Negan," she smiled, looking at me wistfully. "He loves you so much, and losing you is going to hurt him, but he has Nora. He'll take care of her, and she'll take care of him_ _."_

_"Ma'am, I don't know what you're talking about, but you have the wrong person," I stammered, scooting back in the booth to get away from her. It was the wrong thing to do, because she sat down next to me, actually taking my hand and holding it against her heart._

_"Close your eyes, Marie," she ordered me, and my mother nodded her head that I should, not acting surprised or upset that the turn the conversation took. I shut them, and a wave of images were thrown at me, like a tsunami of pictures interspersed with emotions, and I was drowning in them, unable to breathe._

_On my knees, staring up at a man with a leather jacket and brown eyes. A kindly priest kissing my forehead as two nuns watched, one smiling and the other looking stern. A doctor handing me a baby with dark hair and mottled skin. There was no rhyme or reason to them, they just kept coming._

_Handling a gun with a jovial man, his mustache wiggling up and down. Laughing with a pretty woman in a black dress, laying on a bed with a glass of wine. The man with the leather jacket pinning me up against a door and kissing me. Making love to me._

_My eyes opened and I gasped, pulling my hand free._

_"You're Lucille. You're his Lucille."_

_She looked at my mother, who had tears in her eyes._

_"And you're his Angel."_

_"What the heck is going on?" I asked, clutching at my throat. I wanted to leave, to get back to Negan and Nora, but I don't know how I got here, how I ended up at the diner_ ,  _or even why I forgot about them. "You know what? I don't want to know. Just let me out so I can go home."_

_"You can't go back, kid," the man behind my mother said over his shoulder, turning around._

_"Simon? Oh, God. Where am I?"_

_He was here. The other patrons gathered around, and they weren't some strangers in a restaurant. Sister Helen, Sister Ann, Father Thomas. They were all here, all looking at me with both love and concern._

_And for a split second, it was like there was a glitch in my vision. My mother didn't look radiant and beautiful. The front of her throat was ripped out, oozing blood. Simon's shirt was filled with bullet holes, and Lucille...she had a deathly pallor and bald patches on her scalp, with big circles under her eyes. All of them showed signs of death, and I was aware of a throbbing on the back of my head. Reaching back, I felt a large bump, and I remembered everything. Everything._

_"I'm-I'm dead?"_

_"You're in transition," Father Thomas told me, reaching over Lucille to cup my cheek with his hand. "God is bringing you home. You've fulfilled his plans for you, child."_

_"His plan was to give me a daughter and take me away from her? To find the one person in the world that I could spend my life with, and..."_

_I couldn't even finish the thought. I was surrounded by empathy and I wanted to bulldoze my way through the table, to fight for the life that I'd earned. But my body wouldn't move. I was frozen in one spot, unable to extricate myself from this place, this fake version of my past._

_"You put your life into His service, Marie. You brought a child into the world, one that is destined to make a difference. And you helped him save his soul. You brought him back from the darkness that threatened to pull him under. That was your purpose."_

_"That's it? That's all I get? What about my daughter? How can He justify taking her mother away before she-" I choked on the thought. "She'll never even remember me."_

_"Of course she will, sweetheart. None of us were ready to go. Life isn't about fairness," my mother soothed in a soft voice. "You'll watch over them, the same way I did with you until you got here."_

_"Close your eyes," Simon smiled. "And you'll see."_

 

  I opened them, seeing my ceiling fan rotating slowly, and I sat up, taking in the familiar surroundings. My bed, my dresser, even my pictures, groaning internally that I relived it again and again at night.

   The sun was bright, shining through the drapes in cheery streams, and I stood up, walking on bare feet through the house. Everything was still the same, and the pictures stared back at me.

   There was a glass of orange juice on the counter, covered in condensation and waiting just for me. I drank it as I walked around the kitchen, peering out into the living room. The television screen was off, and I passed through to the glass doors, sliding them open after I ran my finger across a picture of Nora, smiling on her horse. My beautiful girl.

   My patio looked out over a sea of flowers, the mountains sitting just beyond, and the breeze was light as I carried the glass to my chair, the only chair. I set it down with a clink, leaning back and closing my eyes in the sun, letting it warm my skin. I never burned and it never drained me.

   Time worked differently, and when I closed my eyes at nightfall, sometimes days would pass, but other times it was months. It was weird, still having a concept of time. I'd always thought that the afterlife would be a glowy, spiritual experience. But I was here, in the perfect version of my house, but without the people that I left behind.

   A few clouds rolled in above me, covering the light, and I sighed. It rained when I was sad. Or I was sad when it rained. I'd never quite determined which.

   I didn't need to eat or drink, yet food appeared. I had no desire to sleep, but I did, and it marked the passage of Nora and Negan's life. Simon was right. I was still able to watch over them, whispering to them in their dreams when they were troubled, crying with them when they suffered losses, filling with joy at their triumphs.

   The familiar buzzing sounded by my ear, and I held out my finger without looking, chuckling when I felt a tickle.

   "Back again, huh?"

   I had a few friends here, though nothing like my living days. A fat bumblebee came regularly to visit, plopping down on my hand every time I came out here. Maybe it was God Himself, coming to check on me. Though I'd been scared of insects my entire life, I no longer held that fear. It didn't matter anymore, because nothing could physically hurt me.

   Besides, it was cute, with its fuzzy body and extra little yellow stripe. It wiggled its wings as I gently rubbed the hairs, watching as it seemed to do a little dance.

   This wasn't heaven, though I was no longer alive. I think it was more like a pit stop not purgatory but a waiting point that I was supposed to stay at until I was ready to accept that my life was over. There was a constant pulling sensation in my stomach that I fought with. It wanted me to get up and walk through the meadow towards the mountain, to what was beyond it. But I couldn't. I couldn't let go of them. I didn't want to leave them behind completely, even though I really didn't believe that I would.

   Even now, it was like there was a rope attached around my waist, and someone or something was gently tugging at it, willing me to get up and go. Love kept me here, the glimpses into their lives rooted me to this place, so I stayed, a stasis of my own making.

   The bee flew off, and I resumed my sunbath, stretching out my legs and resting my heels against the warm stone.

   "It's just like heaven..." I hummed to myself, remembering when my mother used to sing it when I was a child.

   There was a rippling in the air, and everything went silent, like an electric charge. I sat up, looking around, but nothing appeared any different. Still, there was a distinct change in the atmosphere, and I rose out of my seat, going back into the living room to check the screen, but it was black. The pictures had changed like they often did, but there wasn't anything out of the ordinary in them, just more snapshots of Nora and Negan. Yet I still had the feeling that something had happened, and I went to the front of the house, opening the door.

   I was blinded by sunlight, and even though it didn't hurt, I shielded my eyes as I scanned the area. The front yard was empty, but down near the lake, on the path, a figure was stumbling around like they were disoriented. I couldn't make out their face, and I stepped out onto the porch in awe. I'd been alone here, I thought. This was my place, my oasis, and the pulling increased, but instead of drawing me towards the mountain, it dragged me out onto the grass as the figure approached.

   As they got closer, I felt a chill for the first time since I'd left him. He looked the same as the first time I ever laid eyes on him. Black pants, a white shirt, and brown eyes that hadn't aged a day. He still had a salt-and-pepper beard, though there was no smile on his face. He was confused and disoriented, lurching towards me.

   "Where am I, lady?"

   He didn't know who I was. He didn't know he was dead, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 will be posted in a few hours...  
> Marie...was always going to die, and if you go back, you'll see a few hints here and there. More to follow...


	80. I'll See You In My Dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soon my eyes will close  
> Soon I'll find repose  
> And in my dreams  
> You're always near to me

   Completely grey. Age spots and lines from a life well lived. All of it was gone when he stood in front of me, looking around in confusion. This wasn't the Negan that I'd watched over in his dreams and waking hours, whispering to him that I was there, that I'd never left. Now he was the man I'd loved and left, not of my own volition.

   "Negan?"

   He reared back, holding up his hands angrily, and I took a step back.

   "How do you know my name? Who are you? Where the fuck am I?"

   Clouds rolled in like a storm was coming, and he tore his eyes away from me to gaze up at the sight, no doubt foreign to him and I felt my hair whipping around as the wind picked up.

   "Come inside with me," I told him softly, wanting only to touch him and assure him that he was okay. Lucille had placed my hand to her heart, unleashing a tidal wave of memories, and I hoped that I would be able to do the same, while also wondering at the same time what happened, what brought him here. There were no images on the screen, no warning that he'd passed on. "I'll help you."

   As it was, he was pliable enough to follow behind me, still watching the sky as it turned grey before his eyes, either a reaction to me or to him. I didn't know how this place worked, I just knew I was here and so was he.

   Halting footsteps brought him up the porch, but he didn't seem to recognize the house. Maybe because it was a little different than our actual home, more idealized. But nothing sparked in his head until he edged his way into the living room, laying eyes on the pictures that lined the tables, the fireplace. 

   He stumbled over to them, shaking violently, and I shut the door, closing out the roar of the wind that had picked up strongly. 

   "Why do you have pictures of me and my daughter?" he whirled around, holding one of himself and Nora fishing. She was about sixteen in the image, smiling as she pulled a large sea bass from the water. "Where did these come from?"

   "You don't remember me," I said, keeping my distance, fighting the pull in my gut. "I can show you."

   I held out my hand to him even though we were at least ten feet apart, but he backed up another few steps, the picture against his chest. The screen above the fireplace flickered to life as I shut my eyes, breathing deeply. I'd seen it countless times, lived it with him, but I couldn't watch it now. Not with him, some version of him here.

   The picture dropped to the floor with a thump, and I heard him hit the ground with it as his voice, his image flooded the room.  
  
_"Angel, I'm back," he said, laying behind me on the bed._

_It was the night he returned from disposing of the massive herd that surrounded the valley not far from our home. We'd been apart for three days, and he'd just gotten home, late in the darkness after midnight._

_He'd kissed the back of my head, feeling a large lump, and he'd shaken me by the shoulder to wake me, getting no response._

_Even with my eyes closed, I could see it, the fear in his face when I didn't respond, didn't move. He'd rolled me onto my back, raising his voice to get an answer, a reaction._

_"Marie, wake up," he barked, and a slap sounded through the air. "Wake up, goddamnit!"_

_He'd scooped me up in his arms, tearing through the house into the night air, shouting for someone, anyone to help. Towards Dwight and Sherry, kicking at their door with me limp in his arms, my head lolling backward._

_The porch light turned on, and a disheveled Dwight opened the door, getting knocked out of the way as Negan rushed past him, setting me on the couch._

_"She won't wake up," he screeched, "Something's wrong."_

_"Marie?" Dwight bent over me, feeling for a pulse. "I can barely feel it."_

_Footsteps. Michonne. Sherry. Rick. Aaron._

_"What's happening?"_

_Michonne came over, looking pale._

_"Oh, God."_

_Sherry pushed everyone out of the way, kneeling down next to me, shaking me roughly._

_"She fell off her horse. She hit her head. She had a headache but she was fine. She was fine. Marie, wake up," Sherry said, dissolving into tears._

_Chaos. Rick lifting my eyelids and seeing that my pupils were blown. Telling Negan that he was sorry. Negan raging as everyone stood in shock. Hoisting me back into his arms as he cried, carrying me back to our house and cradling me in his arms, rocking me against his for hours until I let out a sighing breath. My last._

_The sound of pure pain, a wail that caused the sky to open and pour down outside my perfect house, even now. Refusal to let me go, even when he'd put a knife through my temple so that I didn't come back._

_Saying goodbye with a tender kiss on my lips only when Nora's cries brought him out of the haze he was in, wiping his tears off of my cheeks._

_Digging my grave by himself._

 

   The television turned off when I opened my eyes, and he was slumped over on the floor. With silent steps, I knelt down beside him as the rain pounded against the glass, wanting desperately to take away the pain that he'd lived with, the confusion that he was going through now, and the realization that our daughter was without both of us. 

   I'd never wanted that, even though she was grown. He'd raised her so well, ushered her into adulthood. A strong confident woman who ran her own community.

   When Negan looked up, he was a man broken, but he wasn't sure why, and I cupped his cheek, sending a shockwave through both of us as our memories merged, combined in a mixture that caused lightning to crash, sparks lighting up the dark room. 

   Nights together in bed, our bodies wrapped up together. Him in the cell in Alexandria, watching me as I walked up the steps, leaving him alone. Me waiting for him at the Sanctuary when he'd go out on a run. All of it was a watercolor, blending and mixing into a new tapestry as I saw the way he viewed me, and he did the same. There was a new flavor to the vignettes of his life after me, an insight that I couldn't get from a distance, separated by time and space.

   Even his dreams, the ones that comforted him, also haunted him when I'd be there, a vision in his eyes, beautiful in a way that I never saw myself, but he did. I could feel that it was the same for him, getting a clear picture of the man I knew him as. A good man, one who loved me, protected me as well as he could for as long as he could. One joined now with me in the ever-after.

   I lowered my hand, the rain slowing to a sprinkle as he reached for it again, though it was a simple touch now.

   "Angel?"

   I cried, throwing my arms around him. I was his angel, and he was mine. He remembered everything, after all of this time. Years to him, and much less to me, but too long apart.

   He smelled the same. He felt the same, only hesitating a minuscule amount before pulling me closer, hugging me so tightly that it would've broken the old me. The pull lessened slightly as I shuddered. It still wanted me to move on, but it was linked to him somehow. 

   "I died, didn't I?" he murmured.

   "You lived," I corrected him, pulling back to see his face. "You lived a long life. A meaningful life."

   The screen lit up again, showing Negan laying in bed on his back. He'd died in his sleep, his face clearing of age and pallor. A peaceful death, and he watched it, entranced to see it from the outside. Painless. 

   "You left me, Angel. You left me alone."

   He wouldn't look at me, instead staring at the last image of himself. An eerie understanding now that I'd had no say so in the matter, no choice of my own.

   "Come with me," I said, helping him to his feet. He was still out of it, still grappling with what happened, but he let me take him into the kitchen, sitting him down at the table where food was waiting for him. A steak with a pat of butter on top. Asparagus and a baked potato. His favorite meal.

   "You made this?"

   "No. It just shows up. He knows. He knows everything."

   It was a shade lighter outside, a pale grey with a misty rain coming down, and Negan ate mechanically, never taking his eyes off of me. 

   "You look the same. You look just how I remembered you."

   "So do you, sweetheart."

   He started at my words, dropping his fork and searching around the house for a mirror. When he came back, he was shaking his head.

   "Is this heaven?"

   "I don't think so. I think it was my waiting place. Somewhere I could watch over you and Nora."

   When he was done eating, he pushed the plate away, taking my hand again, running his thumb over the side of my wrist. There was nothing to say, nothing that could be said. How do you ease someone into this?

   "You know," I finally tried after a long silence, "that night, I thought I was dreaming. I'd been at this diner that I would go to in college. I used to meet my mother there once a week. In the dream, I was still that girl. I didn't remember you or Nora, and I had this waitress. Her name was Lucille."

   His mouth dropped open, and I smiled. "Simon was there. Father Thomas and the Sisters. Everyone that had gone on before me. They told me that I'd fulfilled my purpose, and that God was calling me home. And I was so angry, Negan. I felt cheated out of my life, and out of Nora's. Out of yours. And my mother told me that life wasn't fair. That none of them had wanted to die, either. It didn't help when I was struggling to find a way back. It rained and stormed the first time that I saw you in the bed with me, unable to do anything. Actually," I sighed, "it rains every time I see it."

   His lower lip trembled, and I shook my head. 

   "But I've watched you and Nora ever since. I've seen every moment that mattered. You kept me alive for her. You never let her forget me. Every story you'd tell her about me, every time you made her say prayers. You honored me, and I lived on through that. That was my legacy, so I wasn't really cheated. It made my life significant."

   "You should've been there," he exploded out of nowhere, flinging his chair back. "You left me alone with a baby, and I floundered, Marie. I was alone. The rest of my fucking life I was alone. You haunted my dreams, and you were always there during the waking moments. I never got over it."

   The rain started to pick up as he prowled through the house, throwing pictures and kicking at furniture. I stayed at the table, remembering my own rage when I first got...here. The uncontainable anger at being left out, not given a choice. It was unreasonable, but not surprising, at least to me. When morning came, if it ever came again, the house would be back to its pristine state, like it always would, and I always wondered if God would be watching, exasperated at our human emotions and foibles, even if we were no longer alive. 

   A pained cry spurred me from my spot, and I stepped around the debris to see Negan touching the screen. Touching Nora's face.

   She was sitting next to a fresh grave, her face blotchy and swollen and her eyes ringed with red. The grave was next to mine, marked with a white cross that said, 'Wife. Mother. Angel.'

   "I miss you, Dad. I miss you so much."

   Her voice was raw with emotion, and I joined Negan in front of the screen, trying to send a wave of love to her. She was a woman grown, but she was now an orphan, and it pained her deeply.

   "You've been everything to me for so long, and now that you're gone, I don't know what to do. Who to turn to."

   "I'm still here, princess," Negan whispered, tears streaming down his face. "I'll always be here."

   "But I'll be all right, Dad. I promise. You taught me to fight. To survive, and I'll make you proud. I just hope that wherever you are, you find Mom so that you can be together again. And maybe I'll see you both in my dreams."

   The screen went black, and he let out a wounded sound, hitting the floor in a heap. I got down beside him, aching from the inside out, for him and for Nora. There was no way for me to take the pain away, but I guided his head into my lap, running my hands through his hair as he cried with the rain. So long that it was dark in the house when he finally sat up, looking around the room in confusion. 

   "How long has it been? How does this work?"

   "I don't know," I admitted, feeling tired for the very first time. "I sleep when it gets dark. I wake up when it's light. I watch over you and Nora, and...I just...I'm here. Except for the pull."

   "What's that?" he got to his feet, taking my hand. 

   "Do you feel a pull here?" I touched his stomach, and he frowned as if he noticed it just now. 

   "I feel it, too. I've felt it ever since I got here. I don't think I was meant to stay here forever. It wants me to move on, and I've just fought against it."

   "It makes me want to walk out of the house," he wrinkled his nose, looking like himself for the first time, and I ran my finger along the bridge. "Fucking weird."

   I laughed, and he took my face in his hands, studying me. Memorizing me as if I might leave him again.

   "Can we lay down? Is that allowed?"

   "I think we can do whatever we want. There aren't rules here."

   He kicked a broken frame out of the way, taking me by the arm towards the bedroom. The light tinkle of night rain was starting to dissipate, and he touched the bed, running his palm over the quilt that looked exactly like the one in our real house when we were together. When he crawled onto the mattress, he settled in the middle of the bed, and I laid my head on his chest. There was no heartbeat there, but he was solid, and I shut my eyes when he wrapped his arms around me.

   I didn't go back to the diner. 

   Negan and I were holding hands, approaching a bench in a park. It was springtime, and the cherry trees were blossoming, filling the air with a heady, sweet scent. Nora was sitting in the middle of the bench, and she looked up to see the both of us smiling at her. 

   "You're here," she breathed, reaching out with shaky hands to touch us both. 

   "We're here, baby. We'll always be here," I kissed her forehead, perching next to her, laying my cheek on the top of her head when she curled into my chest. "You'll never be alone."

   "Dad?"

   "I found her, princess. She was waiting for me."

   Nothing else was said. We just sat together, a family in the park, together once and always. A first and last time as we were, as we should have been if life was fair. 

   We woke at the same time, and I looked up to see Negan watching me, one side of his mouth curled up.

   "I dreamed that we saw Nora in a park," he told me, and I nodded. 

   "So did I."

   I sat up, turning to face him. He was so beautiful, a man in black no more. My soulmate. He had to be. How else could he have found me again, unless it was so? 

   "Should we go for a walk?" 

   I glanced outside at the blue sky and sun. There would be no more rain, of that I was sure, and I kissed him softly on the lips. I would go with him anywhere.

   When we stepped out onto the back patio, his eyes went immediately to the mountain in the distance, and hand in hand, we walked towards it. Together. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I first conceived this story, I knew that Marie wasn't going to live a long life with Negan. She was given a 'purpose', and I had the last two chapters plotted out in my head before I even finished Chapter 1. I know that some of you are bummed, and rightly so, but I hope that the last chapter helps. I love happy endings, and this is just a different version of that. Thank you so much for reading, commenting, following, and just generally making this story one of my favorites. When I write, the characters become more than just words on a screen to me, so these stories are a real labor of love for me. Thank you for taking the time to read! I'll see you all in my dreams. :)


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